BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  THIS  VOLUME. 


By  WILLIAM    LEIGHTON,  Jr. 

12mo.     Extra  Cloth.    $1.23. 


"  It  appears  at  the  same  time  with  Tennyson's  poem  upon  the  same 
theme,  and  does  not  suffer  by  comparison  with  it ;  it  has  more  dra- 
matic fire,  and  moves  with  brisker  step,  and  lias  as  sweet  songs  in  it, 
and  as  much  poetry." — Louisville  Courier- Journal. 

"  It  has  touches  of  genuine  art.  The  plot  is  well  sustained.  The 
characters  are  effectively  drawn." — Boston  Watchman. 

"  Mr.  Leighton's  drama  is  vastly  more  creditable  to  him  than 
'  Harold'  to  Tennyson." — Boston  Christian  Register. 

"  It  is  spirited  in  execution,  clear  and  powerful  in  conception,  and 
the  versification  is  something  more  than  correct." — London  Saturday 
Review. 

"  Almost  subtle  enough  for  Shakespeare  himself." — Philadelphia 
Evening  Bulletin. 

"  It  must  be  admitted,  judging  the  two  dramas  solely  on  their  own 
merits,  without  regard  to  '  the  glory  and  the  nothing  of  a  name'  great 
in  modern  literature,  that  the  young  American  has  much  surpassed 
the  experienced  and  maturer  English  poet;  his  dialogue  is  more 
spirited,  his  action  more  decided,  his  personal  feeling  stronger,  and, 
strange  to  say,  his  poetical  expression  at  least  as  good." — Philadel- 
phia Press. 

*»*For  sale  by  Booksellers  generally,  or  will  be  sent  by  mail,  post- 
paid, on  receipt  of  the  price,  by 

J.   B.  LIPPINCOTT  &   CO.,  Publishers, 

715  and  717  Market  Street,  Philadelphia. 


AT  THE  COURT 


OF 


KING    EDWIN. 


A   DRAMA. 


BY 


WILLIAM   LEIGHTON,  JR., 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  SONS  OF  GODWIN." 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.  B.   LIPPINCOTT  &   CO. 

1878. 


2062121 


Copyright,  1877,  by  WILLIAM  LEIGHTON,  JR. 


TO 


MY  FATHER  AND  MOTHER. 


PREFACE. 


WHEN,  nearly  a  year  ago,  "The  Sons  of  Godwin" 
was  published,  the  almost  simultaneous  appearance  of 
"  Harold"  seems  to  have  led  certain  readers,  who  were 
ignorant  of  the  dates  of  the  issue  of  these  books,  to 
the  supposition  that  the  latter  work  suggested  the 
former.  That  such  was  not  the  case  the  author  takes 
this  opportunity  to  declare.  His  volume  had  been 
issued  two  weeks  when  "Harold"  was  published,  and 
his  stereotype  plates  were  made  when  a  newspaper 
paragraph  first  informed  him  of  the  name  and  subject 
of  Mr.  Tennyson's  poem. 

This  fact  is  probably  of  little  interest  to  the  reading 
public,  as  the  celebrity  and  genius  of  the  English  au- 
thor made  his  book  at  once  an  object  of  interest  and 
admiration,  and  may  have  placed  the  contempora- 
neous poem  on  the  same  theme  in  the  position  of  an 
unexpected  intruder. 

To  those  who  so  view  his  book,  the  author  has  only 
this  apology :  when  he  offered  the  work  of  his  unprac- 

7 


8  Preface. 

tised  pen  he  was  ignorant  that  England's  most  hon- 
ored poet  designed  to  illustrate  the  same  epoch  and 
group  of  characters  with  the  power  and  grace  of  his 
matchless  verse. 

Without  intending  an  essay  upon  dramatic  literature, 
the  author  desires  to  say  a  few  words  in  introduction 
of  the  poem  which  occupies  the  following  pages. 

The  announcement  on  the  title-page  is  "  a  drama"  ; 
but  the  work  has  been  written  without  especial  refer- 
ence to  the  requirements  of  the  theatre,  and  hence 
will  perhaps  be  found,  in  many  essential  respects, 
unsuited  to  stage-use.  When  a  dramatic  piece  is  de- 
clared unsuitable  for  the  theatre,  such  unfitness  has 
frequently  been  urged  against  it  as  destructive  of 
literary  value.  In  other  words,  it  has  been  claimed 
that  a  drama  means  a  play  for  the  stage,  and  is  worthy 
of  consideration  only  when  in  theme,  construction, 
language,  and  situations  it  is  adapted  for  successful 
presentation  in  the  theatre. 

If  such  be  the  inflexible  meaning  of  the  word, 
drama,  the  author  has  been  unfortunate  in  its  use,  and 
should  have  selected  some  such  half-way  term  as  dra- 
matic poem  for  his  title;  but  he  has  been  led  into 
error,  if  error  it  be,  by  the  belief  that  the  broad  title, 
drama,  covers  more  than  the  small  area  of  the  stage. 

That  drama  means  action,  the  derivation  of  the  word 


Preface.  9 

and  its  common  use  indicate ;  yet  there  seems  to  be  no 
good  reason  why  this  "action"  should  be  restricted  to 
the  stage.  Action,  as  applied  to  dramatic  literature, 
signifies  the  presentation  and  unfolding  of  character 
and  events,  which  are  brought  about  by  the  meeting 
and  intercourse  of  the  persons  of  the  story,  and  can 
be  shown  as  surely,  if  not  as  effectively,  on  the  printed 
page  as  behind  the  footlights  of  a  theatre.  Dramatic 
action  may  largely  mean,  not  the  actor's  counterfeit 
presentment,  but  the  actual  movement  of  plot  or  story 
in  the  expression  of  thoughts,  imaginations,  peculiari- 
ties of  character,  emotion,  discoveries,  and  all  the 
circumstances  that  arise  in  the  dialogue  or  soliloquy 
of  the  dramatis  personse. 

The  stage  possesses,  in  its  mimic  illusions,  wonder- 
ful fascination,  by  the  aid  of  which  Drama  has  doubt- 
less won  her  most  brilliant  successes;  but,  though 
thus  indebted  to  the  theatre,  must  she,  in  gratitude, 
yield  herself,  the  thrall  of  glitter  and  tinsel,  and  know 
no  life  beyond  the  boundaries  of  its  painted  scenes? 
I  think  not  so.  Wherever  peculiar  and  striking  char- 
acterizations, passions,  and  fancies  of  mankind  are 
exhibited  in  the  dialogue  of  those  who  are  them- 
selves the  personages  whose  thoughts,  feelings,  and 
action  make  the  chief  interest, — there  drama  may  be 
said  to  exist :  but  if  dialogue  refer  to  persons  and 


1C  Preface. 

circumstances  not  immediately  connected  with  the 
speakers,  and  excite  no  emotion  in  them,  such  con- 
versation can  scarcely  be  termed  dramatic,  even  if  it 
take  place  on  the  most  brilliantly-lighted  stage;  nor 
can  the  complication  of  such  speakers  produce  a 
drama,  though  they  relate  events  of  great  interest  to 
audience  or  readers. 

The  dramatic  form  of  composition  seems  an  obvious 
method,  suggested  by  nature,  of  illustrating  its  move- 
ment. Its  chief  advantages  over  narrative  consist  in  a 
verisimilitude  to  fact,  and  the  elimination  of  the  au- 
thor; success  being  largely  dependent  on  keeping  this 
personage,  like  the  manipulator  of  Mr.  Punch  in  the 
puppet-show,  entirely  out  of  sight.  Whoever  tells  a 
story  mingles  himself  and  his  opinions  insensibly  or 
purposely  with  what  he  relates  in  such  manner  that 
his  presence  is  apparent ;  we  see  people  and  events 
consciously  through  his  eyes  and  thoughts,  not  with 
our  own ;  and  therefore  the  story  is  put  further  away 
from  us  than  when  the  characters  appear  to  speak 
unprompted  their  own  opinions  and  feelings. 

This  brief  explanation  will  serve  to  show  what  the 
author  believes  to  be  the  nature  and  capability  of  dra- 
matic composition,  and  that  he  deems  it  a  legitimate 
method  of  reproducing  historical  or  imaginative  scenes 
for  general  readers. 


Preface.  \  \ 

"Another  play  unsuited  to  the  stage" — this  is 
often  the  verdict  of  the  critics  upon  the  advent  of  a 
new  drama ;  and  those  who  render  it,  with  others  who 
accept  criticism  in  unhesitating  belief,  seem  to  imagine 
that  a  drama,  stigmatized  by  such  verdict,  is  thereby 
ostracized  from  literature;  while  many  are  ready  to 
explain  the  exact  boundaries  of  stage-action,  beyond 
which  frowns  a  bottomless  pit  wherein  fall  all  who 
exceed,  or  come  short  of,  their  prescribed  limits. 

Standing  on  the  verge  of  this  frightful  abyss,  into 
which  so  many  gay  hopes,  great  ambitions,  and  glow- 
ing fancies  have  fallen,  listen  to  the  faint  whispers  that 
come  up,  and  peer  into  the  gloom  for  phantoms  of 
characterizations  that  flit  above  this,  their  yawning 
grave — Dramas  unsuited  to  the  modern  stage !  Out 
of  the  shadows  beneath  come  trie  agony  of  Prome- 
theus, the  chant  of  the  old  Greek  chorus,  the  craze 
of  Gretchen,  the  despair  of  Faust,  the  mutterings  of 
dishonored  Sampson,  the  poetry  of  gay  Comus. 

Suitability  to  the  modern  stage,  outside  of  which 
there  is  for  the  dramatist — nothing !  This  is  true  if 
he  write  only  for  the  theatre ;  but  may  not  an  author 
present  his  story  in  dramatic  form  for  the  sake  of 
more  vivid  realization,  and  name  his  work,  a  drama, 
even  if  he  has  chosen  such  scenes  as  are  unsuitable  to 
the  stage,  and  intends  his  book  for  general  readers  ? 


AN    ANTIQUE    TIME. 


Twelve  centuries  ago. — Trace  back  the  years, 

And  count  their  spectres,  as  weird  shapes  arise 

Out  of  old  records — ah,  how  vast  appears 

The  long  array  to  our  bewildered  eyes ! 

But  when  we  reach  the  dim  and  cloudy  edge 

Of  history,  lo !  mingling  with  the  real, 

Are  strange,  wild  figures  which  those  old  times  fledge 

With  the  miraculous  plumage  of  th'  ideal. 

Back  in  remembrance  comes  the  storied  scene 

Of  ancient  legend ;  fairy  forms  glide  by ; 

The  dragon  rolls  his  pictured  shape  between 

The  sage  enchanter  and  the  giant  high. 

Out  of  such  times  my  drama  takes  a  day — 

A  posy  plucked  out  of  an  ancient  May. 


DRAMATIS    PERSONS. 


EDWIN,  King  of  Deira. 

EDILBERGA,  his  queen. 

ENID,  Princess  of  Gwynedd. 

PENDA,  King  of  Mercia. 

BRIAN,  Prince  of  Gwynedd. 

BLECCA,  Earl  of  Lincoln. 

PAULINUS,  the  queen's  bishop. 

COIFI,  high-priest  of  Odin. 

PELLITUS,  the  king's  magician. 

GOLDDIN,  the  house-thegn. 

DAGBERT,  a  jailer. 

RHYN,  a  Cymrian,  the  slave  of  Pellitus. 

Captain  of  the  king's  guard.    Deiran  and  Mercian  lords,  Christian 

priests,  priests  of  Odin,  ladies-in-waiting  and  queen's  attendants, 

guards  and  king's  attendants. 


Date  of  the  story,  the  seventh  century. 

Time  occupied  by  the  action,  twenty-four  hours. 

Scene,  the  king's  palace  at  York. 


AT  THE  COURT  OF  KING  EDWIN. 


AT    THE 

COURT  OF  KING  EDWIN. 


ACT    I. 

SCENE  I.— HALL-OF-WAITING    IN  THE 
PALACE. 

PAULINUS  and  COIFI. 

Com. 

I  shall  see  midnight  looks  in  many  faces; 
And  low-born  carles,  whose  heads  have  bent  to  me, 
Veiling  bold  eyes  in  superstitious  fear, 
Will  twist  gnarled,  stupid  brows  into  black  frowns, 
Shake  heads,  and  mutter  at  th'  unfaithful  priest ; 
While  thegn  and  ealdorman,  with  covert  sneer, 
May  curl  the  lip,  more  insolent  than  frown. 

PAULINUS. 

You  must  find  solace  in  sweet  Enid's  eyes, 
Payment  for  sneers  upon  her  curling  lip, 


1 8  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  i. 

And  bear  down  vulgar  gaze  by  the  authority 
Of  kingly  office. 

Coin. 

Ay,  to  be  a  king 

Is  better  than,  a  priest ;  but  not  so  safe. 
These  Cymrian  mountaineers  are  hard  to  rule, 
As  rough  and  tameless  as  hill-foxes,  wolves ; 
They  may  refuse  me  utterly,  and  snarl 
In  harsh  defiance  of  King  Edwin's  will. 

PAULINUS. 

Refuse  you  ?  ay ;  but  not  your  Cymrian  wife, 
Who  bears  in  delicate  veins  the  blood  of  kings. 
King  Edwin  gives  them  back  their  ruling  stock 
Grafted  upon  the  Saxon.     If  they  snarl, 
His  hand  will  whip  them  to  obedient  smiles, 
Making  them  bow  before  your  vassal  throne — 
Vassal  alone  in  name  and  in  the  help 
That  he,  the  great  Bretwalda,  lends. 

COIFI. 

But  she, 

The  Cymrian  princess  that  King  Edwin  gives 
With  Gwynedd's  kingdom,  loves  me  not ;  perhaps, — 
Yea,  what  more  likely? — she  may  plot  against  me 
To  fill  my  place  with  one,  her  countryman  ; 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  19 

So,  while  I  sleep  secure,  Murder's  red  hand 

Will  strike,  and  Edwin's  power  bring  help  too  late. 

PAULINUS. 

It  is  a  risk  that  all  must  take  who  wed ; 
There  may  be  poison  mingled  with  the  honey. 

Coin. 

But  there  is  honey ;  I  will  take  the  risk. 
Aside. 

This  captive's  wondrous  beauty  draws  me  on 
As  bears  are  lured  by  sweets  until  they  step 
On  the  frail  twigs  that  hide  a  yawning  pit, 
Then  fall,  the  hunters'  prey. 

To  PAULINUS. 

Ay,  tell  the  king : 

I  will  give  up  my  gods,  declare  them  false, 
Take  in  their  place  your  Christ  and  holy  saints, 
And  do  his  will ;  so  he  fulfil  your  promise, 
Giving  me  Enid  and  the  throne  of  Gwynedd. 

PAULINUS. 

He  will  do  so.     Although  I  buy  your  help 
At  price  of  fond  desires,  that,  by  such  means, 


2O  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  I. 

Many  may  come  to  know  the  larger  life 

I  offer ;  yet  that  life  is  not  so  bought. 

It  comes  when  Faith  shall  reach  adoring  hands 

To  Christ,  the  Saver — comes,  a  richer  gift, 

O  Coifi,  than  delighting  joys  of  pleasure, 

Or  dignity  of  kings.     The  soul  of  man, 

If  he  shall  win  for  it  eternal  life 

In  Christ's  high  kingdom,  is  a  priceless  jewel, 

A  sparkle  of  Divinity's  pure  light, 

And  all  things  else  that  he  most  covets  here, 

Wealth,  pleasures,  power,  are  feasting  of  his  sense, 

Garments  and  viands  for  a  holiday. 

Seek  not  then  fiercely  for  inferior  things, 

Leaving  the  jewel,  truth,  to  gather  up 

In  eager  haste  by  armfuls  worthless  dirt, 

Will  stain  you  now,  and  weigh  you  down  forever. 

COIFI. 

My  mind  is  dull  to  see  what  you  would  show; 
Perhaps  my  gods,  in  very  jealousy, 
Have  filled  my  brain  with  clouds  to  hide  your  truth ; 
For  sometimes  when  I  ponder  on  the  things 
You  tell,  and  after,  sleep;  then,  in  a  dream, 
Will  Odin  come,  and  frown  ;  but  all  the  while, 
Knowing  it  is  a  dream,  I  fear  him  not ; 
For,  save  in  dreams,  he  stands  as  still  as  stone. 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin,  21 

I  marvel  he  should  come  to  me  in  dreams, 
Who,  to  each  wakeful  question,  answers  not ; 
Nor  seems  more  sensible  than  the  poised  blocks 
Set  up  by  Cymrians  in  their  Druid-rings. 

PAULINOS. 

He  is  a  myth.     It  is  the  common  foe 
Of  all  mankind  haunts  you  in  Odin's  shape; 
Evil  can  glide  into  each  sculptured  form, 
And  stir  the  inert  stone  or  painted  wood, 
Scaring  the  world  with  hideous  masquerade, 
Affrighting  men  by  making  animate 
The  figures  fashioned  by  their  fear  and  folly. 
Here  is  a  cross  ;  wear  it  upon  your  breast, 
And  Odin  will  disturb  your  dreams  no  more. 

COIFI. 

I  do  not  fear  him ;  but  will  wear  your  cross, 
Lest  in  his 'rage  he  send  down  Thor,  the  thunderer, 
To  strike  me  with  his  hammer. 

PAULINUS. 

%  Myths  !  brave  Coifi  ; 

There  is  no  Thor,  but  such  as  fancy  shapes ; 
His  thunder,  but  a  legendary  fable 
Born  of  the  devil  to  stuff  the  brains  of  men, 


22  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.         [ACT  I. 

Leaving  no  place  to  fill  with  honest  truth ; 
A  noisy  fable,  stolen  from  the  Greek. 

Coin. 

Ay,  so  you  say  ;  and  I  must  ev'n  believe  it ; 
But  if  there  be  no  Thor,  no  gods  in  Asgard, 
Who  did  the  deeds  recorded  of  our  ^Esir, 
The  sons  of  Bor,  and  the  Frost-giant  race  ? 

PAULINUS. 

They  are  delusions  of  the  arch-enemy, 
Old  fables  whispered  down  from  sire  to  son 
Until  antiquity  hath  stamped  the  myths 
With  a  traditionary  blazoning 
That  flames  like  truth. 

Coin. 

I'll  spend  more  thought  upon  it, 
That  I  may  come  to  see  the  ^Esir  race 
Fly  from  the  presence  of  your  crucified  God — 

Enter  PELLITUS. 

The  wizard  Pellitus !    Once  more  I  promise 
To  be  obedient  to  the  king's  demands. 
Ho,  Pellitus  !  what  say  the  stars  ? 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  23 

PELLITUS. 

My  lords, — 

Two  of  the  arch-priests  of  the  upper  courts 
Should  better  know  each  purpose  of  the  gods 
Than  I  can  read  it  on  this  lower  plain. 

PAULINUS. 

'Tis  true — your  cunning  tells  for  once  the  truth  : 
You  are  indeed  upon  a  lower  plain 
Too  far  beneath  the  heavenly  purposes 
To  catch  their  meaning.     Break  your  wizard-staff; 
Look  on  the  stars  as  God's  bright  promises, 
His  lights  that  shine  from  mansions  of  the  blest ; 
The  flight  of  birds,  His  lesson  to  the  wise, 
Telling  how  nature  moves  instinct  with  force 
And  harmony,  breathed  from  a  kindly  heaven, 
And  bearing  kindliness  and  love  to  life. 
Your  philters,  incantations,  spectres,  spells — 
I  need  not  tell  you  what  to  think  of  these ; 
You  know  your  own  machinery  too  well 
To  deem  it  truth. 

Coifi,  the  gates  of  Truth 

Are  wide  and  bright ;  but  many  see  them  not ; 
Open  your  eyes,  and  walk  not  in  the  dark ; 
Think  of  my  words;  nor  w'aste  your  time  in  talk 
With  this  deceiver.     Farewell  to  you,  both. 

Exit  PAULINUS. 


24  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  i. 

Coin. 

Magician,  is  your  wand  a  useless  staff, 
To  scare  the  ignorant  ?     I  think  it  is ; 
Or  it  would  flame  with  wrath  at  him  who  scoffs 
At  it  and  you. 

PELLITUS. 

Nay  ;  this  proud  priest  doth  tell 
Of  the  humility  and  love  he  teacheth, 
Sets  up  his  image  of  a  god  of  Peace, 
And  in  its  name  makes  war  on  all  the  world, 
Forgetful,  or  regardless,  that  his  faith 
Hath  gathered  up  the  scattered  elements 
Of  mild  philosophies ;  but  shaping  these 
Into  a  presentation  figure,  on  whose  brow 
Is  haloed  Love,  would  force  this  sad-faced  god 
Upon  the  world  by  intrigue  and  the  sword. 
Love  and  humility  are  only  tenets, 
Not  active  principles  of  this,  his  faith. 
But  wisdom  long  hath  known  a  better  policy 
Than  flaming  wrath  ;  and,  though  I  name  it  not 
Love  or  humility,  can  still  restrain 
My  magic  slaves,  and  let  this  railer  work 
A  wiser  purpose  than  his  vaunted  "  truth." 

COIFI. 
You  set  your  "wisdom"  up  against  his  "truth"  ; 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  25 

But  truth  and  wisdom  both  are  unseen  things 

The  world  must  take  on  trust. 
\ 

PELLITUS. 

Ay,  for  a  time, 

Until  familiarity  shall  change 

The  trust  to  a  belief,  and  call  it  faith. 

Meantime  I  watch,  and  wait,  and  read  the  stars, 

And  summon  phantoms  from  the  darkest  shades 

Of  nether  Tartarus, — disembodied  things 

Whose  reach  of  sight  is  forward,  as  in  us 

Memory  goes  backward  on  the  track  of  years, — 

Who  map  for  me  the  filling  up  of  time, 

But  oft  with  gaps  and  blank  obscurities 

That  baffle  certainty.     There  is  success, 

There  is  defeat — both  written  of  this  faith 

Paulinus  flaunts  with  such  a  lofty  scorn 

Of  all  beside.     But,  priest  of  Odin,  thou 

Art  written  down  in  my  foretelling  runes: 

How  thou  wouldst  sell,  for  Gwynedd's  vassal  throne 

And  Cymrian  Enid,  ancient  Cimbric  faith; 

How  thou  wouldst  bow  thy  purchased  kingliness, 

Unkingly,  kneeling  at  Paulinus'  cross — 

Beware  !  my  messengers  have  whispered  me 

Of  angry  Odin's  vengeance ;  and  I  see, 

As  in  a  picture,  a  huge,  prostrate  cross, 

And  one  beneath  it,  crushed  by  its  dead  weight. 


26  At  the  Court  of  -King  Edivin.        [ACT  i. 

Coin. 

A  picture  built  of  words.     Know,  knave  magician, 
Not  even  Odin's  self,  if  he  could  rise, 
Splendid  in  all  his  panoply  of  arms, 
And  rail  at  me,  would  move  me  from  my  purpose. 

PELLITUS,  aside. 

If  he  could  rise  ! — this  thick-skulled  priest  doth  scoff 
At  superstition's  might; — the  world  grows  old. 

Coin. 

For  your  dark  hints  that  teem  with  pregnant  fate, 
I  hear  them  as  I  listen  to  the  thunder, 
A  threatening  noise  that  roars,  but  harms  me  not. 

PELLITUS. 

Ay,  like  the  thunder  are  my  words ;  they  harm  not, 
But  tell  of  powers  that  hover  o'er  our  heads, 
In  whose  great  hands  the  little  fates  of  men 
Are  like  small  motes  of  dust  a  great  storm  whirls 
Tempestuously  between  low  skies  and  earth. 
You  fear  not  thunder?     When  the  mountains  shake, 
Is  it  but  empty  sound  that  fills  the  air? 
When  the  forked  lightning  darts  among  the  clouds, 
Or  leaps  to  earth  to  shatter  a  great  oak, 
You  do  not  fear?  nor  doth  the  threatened  oak, 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edivin.  27 

Because  its  idle  limbs  and  foolish  leaves 
Have  no  intelligence.     Oh,  we  may  shape 
In  our  capricious  minds  forms  wonderful 
Of  deity,  and  yet  that  deity 
Is  far  more  wonderful  than  wonder's  shapes  ! 
Look  !     I  will  laugh  with  you  at  Odin's  form, 
But  not  at  Odin's  self,  if  in  his  shape 
You  picture  Him  that  thunders. 

COIFI. 

That  is  Thor. 

PELLITUS. 

Odin  or  Thor — the  names  are  idle  nothings ; 
But  there  is  That  is  greater  than  man's  thought, 
Vaster  than  he  hath  scope  of  picturing, 
Though  all  his  deities  be  blent  in  one. 

COIFI. 
I  am  not  wont  to  tremble  with  weak  fears. 

PELLITUS. 

Nor  I  to  prate  of  gods. 

I  speak  the  truth  ;  my  words  are  harmless  to  you  ; 

Nor  have  I  enmity  to  poison  speech 

With  ill ;  let  me  bring  help,  not  any  harm  ; 

For  I  have  that,  born  of  my  magic  powers, 


28  At  the  Court  of  King-  Edzvin.        [ACT  r. 

Potent  for  good  or  ill  as  it  is  used, 
Foreknowledge.     Lo  !  as  on  a  burnished  shield 
I  see  the  pictures  of  the  future  pass ; 
I  see  you  go,  a  fond,  deluded  fool, 
Into  a  pit  that  yawns  before  your  feet ; 
Nor  yet  so  blind  as  not  to  see  the  snare, 
And  yet  so  blind  to  fall  into  the  snare. 

COIFI. 

I  will  not  hear  it ;  you  have  learned  this  thing 
By  common  knowledge,  and  would  fright  me  off 
From  what  I  would,  for  reasons  that  I  know  not. 
One  thing,  magician,  let  me  tell  you  here, 
Lest  they,  your  messengers,  forget  to  tell  it : 
'Tis  waste  of  words  to  picture  threats  to  Coifi ; 
He  may  be  blind,  a  fool,  but  not  a  coward. 
There  is  my  purse ;  if  you  have  meant  me  well, 
My  thanks ;  if  ill,  I  care  not.     So,  farewell. 

Exit  COIFI. 
PELLITUS. 

Even  this  stupid  priest  of  Odin  scorns  me; 
My  footing  stands  upon  a  slippery  ground 
Unless  I  may  control  such  minds  as  his, 
Or  if  the  beast-like  courage  of  his  heart 
Can  prove  a  talisman  to  mock  my  skill. 
No,  it  is  this :  he  hath  been  offered  bribes 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  29 

So  great,  their  very  greatness  hides  all  else. 
The  Christian  bishop  hath  a  subtle  mind, 
Nor  scorns  the  help  of  cunning  and  intrigue ; 
He  buys  a  convert  to  set  up  for  show, 
As  fowlers  put  a  bird  of  painted  wood 
Within  their  nets,  a  lure  to  silly  flocks 
That  flutter  overhead,  to  draw  them  down. 
Each  day  I  feel  his  growing  influence  creep 
About  the  king.     He  and  the  queen  have  made 
A  royal  convert ;  and  he  now  hath  won, 
By  promise  of  a  kingdom  and  a  bride, 
This  sordid,  stupid  Coifi  to  give  up 
His  gods,  and  be  a  Christian,  that  the  people, 
By  such  example  of  their  priesthood's  chief, 
May  come  beneath  his  cross.     I  like  it  not ; 
For  if  Paulinus  thrive,  his  rising  star 
Must  surely  dim  my  own.     I'll  cross  his  path 
With  threads  of  cunning  subtle  as  bis  own, 
And  pull  his  plots  awry.     This  plan  of  his 
Would  rob  me  of  my  princess.     Oh  !  what  star, 
Malignant  to  my  fate,  put  this  strange  love 
Into  my  breast  ?     I,  who  have  made  my  trade 
In  probing  human  hearts,  to  feel  my  own 
Rebel  against  calm  wisdom  with  a  longing 
For  this  fair  captive,  that  I  cannot  quell ! 
She  is  the  bait  that  lures  the  priest  of  Odin 


30  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  i. 

To  sure  destruction  ;  is  she  not  a  bait 

To  tempt  me  too  into  the  same  deep  pit? 

I  see  it  yawn  before  me,  but  go  on, 

Drawn  by  her  magic  beauty — senseless  fool, 

To  cry  like  a  poor  baby  for  the  moon 

Out  of  its  reach  !     I  cannot  have  her  love ; 

She  looks  upon  me  with  abhorrent  eye, 

And  yet  I  sigh  for  her — nay,  more :  will  have  her, 

If  I  lose  all  to  do  it.     'Tis  a  game 

That  I  must  play  with  every  chance  against  me. 

Enter  RHYN. 
Rhyn,  hast  thou  done  my  bidding? 

RHYN. 

Ay,  my  master. 

PELLITUS. 
Where  is  the  captive  princess  ?  and  what  does  she  ? 

RHYN. 
Waits  on  the  queen. 

PELLITUS. 
Her  lodging,  learned  you  it  ? 

RHYN. 
Ay. 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  31 

PELLITUS. 

With  the  queen's  bower-women? 

RHYN. 

Ay,  my  master. 

PELLITUS. 

Watch  her ;  watch  all,  even  the  silent  mouse 
That  from  a  wainscot  creeps  for  petty  plunder; 
Note  how  he  thrives  in  his  small  enterprise. — 
Do  you  know  what  I  mean  ? 

RHYN. 

No  little  thing 
Shall  "scape  my  eyes. 

PELLITUS. 

A7  i— go- 

Exit  RHYN. 

He's  serviceable, 

And  safe  as  serviceable  because  he  knows 
I  hold  his  life  in  keeping.     Princess  Enid  ! — 
Have  I  indeed  spent  all  my  life  for  this  : 
To  be  as  foolish  as  half-bearded  youth  ? 
My  toiling  feet  have  traversed  distant  lands  ; 
My  thoughts  considered  old  philosophies 
Of  the  dead  Greek,  of  Egypt's  older  priesthood, 


32  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.         [ACT  i. 

The  lore  of  Brahmin  and  the  imagery 

Of  Persia's  wealth  of  fervent  mysticism, 

That,  out  of  all,  I  might  raise  up  a  god 

Unto  my  soul,  the  power  of  intellect ; 

Now  must  I  cast  that  symbol  from  its  place 

To  set  upon  its  pedestal  a  shape 

So  common  as  humanity — blue  eyes, 

Arched  brows,  bright  golden  hair  of  a  fair  woman, 

Smooth  cheeks  of  beauty  rosy-tinted  like 

A  lily  blooming  in  the  shade,  but  touched 

By  sunlight  peeping  through  the  leafy  screen, 

And  painted  with  a  delicate  flush  of  red  ! 

'Twas  Helen's  beauty  broke  the  walls  of  Troy, 

And  Priam's  daughter  lost  the  son  of  Peleus  ! 

Here  in  this  island  Cymrian  Merlin  fell 

By  woman's  art — lured  by  her  beauty,  fell ; 

An  age  of  wisdom  sunk  in  the  short  hour 

He  took  the  soft  enchantress  to  his  heart ! 

O,  there  was  wiser  thought  in  the  Greek  brain 

That  fastened  round  fair  Venus'  slender  waist 

Her  cestus  than  my  cold  philosophy  hath  deemed  ! 

Enter  GOLDDIN  and  BRIAN  disguised  as  a  pilgrim. 

GOLDDIN. 

Master  Pellitus,  your  servant.     Shine  the  stars 
Propitious? — stars — ha-ha  ! — the  stars. 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  33 

To  BRIAN. 

Come,  sir; 

This  is  the  king's  magician ;  he  will  tell 
Under  what  lucky  planet  you  were  born. 

BRIAN  bows  to  PELLITUS. 

PELLITUS. 

Who  is  this  pilgrim?  hath  he  not  a  tongue, 
GoodGolddin? 

GOLDDIN. 

Master  Pellitus,  no  doubt 
He  hath  a  tongue ;  but  it  is  vowed  to  silence — 

Ha-ha ! — to  silence — ha ! 

Exit  GOLDDIN. 

PELLITUS,  aside. 

A  pilgrim  vowed  to  silence — under  this 
Is  hidden  mystery,  and  mystery 
May  hide  a  plot.     I'll  watch,  and  set  on  Rhyn 
To  find  out  who  this  tongueless  stranger  is. 

Exit  PELLITUS. 

BRIAN,  putting  back  his  hood. 
It  was  the  king's  magician,  him  I  seek, 
Whose  spells  have  been  the  brave  Cadwallon's  bane ; 
I  must  be  watchful ;  one  unguarded  act 
May  bring  upon  me  all  this  buzzing  hive 
3 


34  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.         [ACT  i. 

Of  enemies.     How  shall  I  find  my  sister? 

I  dare  not  speak,  save  to  the  pompous  house-thegn, 

Nor  much  to  him. 

Enter  RHYN  ;   BRIAN  pulls  forward  his  hood ; 
aside. 

A  Cymrian,  on  my  life  ! — 
A  captured  slave — I  have  a  mind  to  trust  him ; 
I  will. 

To  RHYN. 

Thou  art  a  Cymrian. 

RHYN. 
Ay. 

BRIAN. 

Of  Gwynedd? 

RHYN. 
Ay. 

BRIAN,  throwing  back  his  hood. 
Slave  of  the  Saxon,  art  so  much  a  slave 
To  yield  thy  prince  into  his  enemy's  hand  ? 
Here  in  the  stronghold  of  his  foes  he  stands  ; 
If,  in  thy  heart,  thou  art  indeed  a  slave, 
Buy  now  thy  betterment  by  his  betrayal; 
But  if  thou  hast  a  spark  of  that  bold  spirit 
That  bade  thine  ancestors,  with  naked  bosoms, 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  35 

Raise  up  a  bulwark  on  the  ocean's  edge 

Against  the  Roman,  give  me  helping  words 

To  find  my  sister,  and  destroy  the  sorcerer 

Whose  spells  have  brought  thy  country  many  harms, 

Baffling  the  wisest  plans  of  Gwynedd's  king — 

Speak,  Cymrian ! 

RHYN. 
You  are  Brian. 

BRIAN. 

Brian,  thy  prince. 

RHYN. 
Your  sister's  with  the  queen. 

BRIAN. 

And  Pellitus? 

RHYN. 
Beware  my  master ;  he  is  full  of  cunning. 

BRIAN. 
Is  Pellitus  thy  master  ? 

RHYN. 
Ay,  Prince  Brian. 


36  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  i. 

BRIAN,  raising  his  staff. 
This  will  I  match  against  his  wizard-wand. 

RHYN. 
Your  stick's  too  little. 

BRIAN. 

Slave,  it  is  the  heart, 

And  not  the  weapon,  makes  a  dangerous  hand ; 
But  art  thou  such  a  traitor  that  would  stay 
Help  from  his  land,  or  peril  from  its  foe  ? 

RHYN  shakes  his  head. 
Thou  fear'st  his  magic  ? 

RHYN. 
Ay;  his  cunning,  more. 

BRIAN. 
How  shall  I  see  my  sister  ? 

RHYN,  after  meditating. 

Tell  the  house-thegn 
To  bring  you  to  the  queen — if  so  you  dare  ? 

BRIAN. 
Cymrian,  thou  hast  some  wit.     I  come  to  dare ; 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  37 

So  shall  I  see  my  sister — ha !  away ! 

The  sound  of  many  steps — again,  to-night. 

Exit  RHYN  ;  enter  the  king's  guard,  then  the 
KING  accompanied  by  EARL  BLECCA,  COIFI, 
PAULINUS,  and,  after  them,  GOLDDIN  ;  BRIAN 
muffles  his  head  in  his  hood. 

KING. 

We  must  consult  with  Pellitus  to  fix 
A  day  auspicious. 

PAULINUS. 
Nay,  your  majesty, 
Deal  not  with  devils ;  if  this  Pellitus 
Be  not  a  crafty  show  of  what  he  is  not, 
The  slaves  that  serve  him,  and  through  him  serve  you, 
Are  wicked  demons  that  will  tempt  you  on 
By  giving  what  may  seem  like  goodly  service 
Until  you  trust  them  much,  and  then  betray. 
What  can  be  won  from  wickedness  but  ill? 
Giving  good  service,  is  an  act  of  goodness 
The  devil  cannot  do  ;  who  trusts  to  him 
Takes  Folly's  hand,  and  shakes  the  head  at  Wisdom. 

KING. 

You  give  the  dog  an  evil  name,  and  then 
Throw  stones  at  him ;  although  my  dog  may  bark 


38  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  i. 

Perhaps  at  Danger's  shadow,  yet  his  cry 

Hath  sometimes  warned  me  well ;  I  do  not  fear 

His  magic  creatures.     Coifi,  what  say  you  ? 

Coin.  .• 

Between  the  fall  of  Odin  and  the  setting-up 
Of  these  new  gods  my  wits  are  so  turned  round 
Old  things  put  on  new  shapes ;  but  Pellitus 
Stands  up  outside  of  both  these  faiths, 
And  hath  no  part  of  either;  so  his  wisdom, 
Refusing  both,  hurts  both,  or  hurts  itself; 
I  do  not  well  know  which.     He  hath  been  long 
Your  trusted  counsellor,  and  given  safe  help 
In  many  fortunes ;  how  his  knowledge  comes, 
From  stars  or  devils,  is  too  deep  for  me  ; 
But  help  is  help,  nor  would  I  fear  his  demons. 

KING. 

'Tis  a  bold  counsel,  be  it  wise,  or  no; 
What  says  Earl  Blecca? 

BLECCA. 

By  Ella's  magic  sword  ! 

Coifi  speaks  truth.     This  wizard  with  his  wand 
Lifts  up  one  corner  of  the  mighty  veil 
That  hangs  between  us  and  the  coming  days ; 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  39 

Peers  with  keen  eyes  into  the  deeps  beyond, 
And  tells  how  sweeps  along  the  endless  train  ; 
What  evils  come,  and  how  far  off  they  be. 
We  listen  to  him,  doubtful,  or  credulous  ; 
If  his  foretellings  come,  we  are  prepared  ; 
If  not,  we  laugh ;  but  are  not  hurt  at  all. 
It  may  be,  as  the  learned  bishop  saith, 
The  work  of  demons  ;  but  if  serviceable 
It  is  a  sign  that  ev'n  in  evil  things 
May  be  a  saving  element  of  good — 
Ay,  there's  no  thing  so  utterly  itself 
It  hath  no  touch  or  quality  of  another  : 
Night's  pride  of  stars  suggests  the  light  of  day  ; 
Day's  secret  caverns  hold  imprisoned  night. 

KING. 

True  !  Blecca,  usefulness  in  everything, 
Had  we  the  wit  to  find  it.     Honest  Golddin, 
Whom  hast  thou  there  so  hid  in  pilgrim  weeds  ? 

GOLDDIN. 

Your  majesty,  'tis  one  who,  for  a  promise, 
Hath  sealed  his  lips  up  close — close  lips — ha-ha  ! 

KING. 
Pilgrim,  if  thou  hast  not  another  promise, 


40  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  i. 

To  hide  thy  face,  throw  back  thy  masking  hood, 
And  show  thyself. 

BRIAN  bows  low  to  the  KING,  but  keeps  his  face 
covered. 

PAULINUS. 

My  son,  if  'tis  in  penance 
For  some  rash  act,  a  guilt  of  burdened  soul, 
You  go  with  covered  face  and  silent  tongue, 
The  king,  at  my  request,  will  pardon  you. 

BRIAN   bows  again  very  low  to  the  KING  and 
bishop. 

KING. 

Well,  be  it  so ;  I  like  an  open  face — 
A  face  like  thine,  my  Golddin,  free  of  guile. 

BLECCA. 

Your  Golddin's  face  is  like  the  sunflower's  bloom, 
That  ever  lifts  unto  the  god  of  day 
A  bright,  broad  shape. 

KING. 

Or  like  the  sun  itself, 

Shining  at  morning  through  a  misty  haze ; — 
We  borrow  poesy  from  thee,  my  earl. 

BLECCA. 
The  eagle  needs  no  song ;  his  lordly  pride 


SCEN7E  I.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  41 

And  majesty  proclaim  him,  king  of  birds, 
And  make  his  piercing  cry  more  fitting  note 
Than  all  the  music  of  the  woodland  choir. 

KING. 

Do  you  not  think,  Lord  Lincoln,  that  this  bird, 
The  kingly  eagle,  may  grow  tired  of  state, 
Weary  of  kingliness,  and  so  pride-sated 
That  when  he  hears  the  evening  coppice  thrill 
With  the  soft  notes  of  singing  nightingales 
His  monarch-breast  will  heave  with  fond  regret 
He  was  not  born  a  songster  of  the  grove 
To  pour  his  heart  out  in  sweet  melody  ? 

BLECCA. 

I  dare  not  say ;  the  fashion  of  my  heart 
Is  like  the  nightingale's,  and  not  the  eagle's. 

KING. 

Ah  !  Blecca,  much  I  doubt  if  majesty 
Be  to  the  eagle  so  much  happiness 
As  eve's  sweet  carol  to  the  nightingale — 
My  Coifi,  beg  this  sweet-tongued  nightingale 
To  sing  for  thee  a  song  unto  thy  dove. 

Coin. 

Not  so,  my  king;  the  eagle's  song  for  me ; 
If  harsh  his  notes,  he  sings  of  victory. 


42  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  i. 

KING,  pointing  to  EARL  BLECCA. 
What  think'st  thou,  Golddin,  of  my  nightingale? 

GOLDDIN. 

My  lord,  I  think  his  feathers  are  too  fine, 
And  that  he  is  not  shy  enough — ha-ha  ! — 
Not  shy  enough. 

Exeunt  KING,  EARL  BLECCA,  Coin,  PAULINUS, 
and  king's  attendants.  GOLDDIN  is  stopped 
by  BRIAN,  who  whispers  with  him.  Exit 
GOLDDIN. 

BRIAN. 

Ay,  I  will  kisst  the  queen's  hand,  paying  homage 
Unto  the  lady,  not  her  sovereign  power ; 
So  shall  I  see  my  sister — my  poor  Enid  ! 
How  may  her  lone  heart  keep  its  native  courage, 
Here  compassed  round  by  enemies  ?     Brave  sister ! 
What  a  big  leap  her  little  heart  will  make 
If  I  Can  signal  it !     The  Christian  priest 
Gave  me  good  help ;  I  think  this  Cymrian  face 
Had  startled  them.     The  slave  of  Pellitus — 
'Twas  rash  to  trust  a  slave ;  but  not  more  rash 
Than  this  rash  undertaking;  I  have  seen 
The  reckless  win  when  the  more  careful  failed. 
Perhaps  some  spirit,  unseen  in  the  air, 
Prompts  the  bold  bosom  to  a  perilous  deed, 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  43 

And  helps  its  execution ;  so  I  trust 
My  fortunes  in  thy  hands,  O  guiding  spirit, 
That  sittest  throned  above  this  desperate  chance ! 
How  shall  I  name  thee  ?     Fortune  ?     Ah  !  not  so ; 
I  would  not  have  thee  wear  the  fraudful  smile 
Of  her,  the  common  mistress  of  mankind, 
Who  with  caressing  fingers  blinds  our  eyes 
While  her  dark  paramour,  Calamity, 
Steals  silently  upon  us.     Nay,  fair  spirit, 
I  will  not  slander  so  thy  unknown  name 

To  call  thee  Fortune. 

Exit. 


44  At  the  Court  of  King  Edzvin.       [ACT  n. 


ACT    II. 

SCENE    I.— THE    QUEEN'S   APARTMENT. 
The  QUEEN,  ENID,  and  ladies-in-waiting. 

QUEEN. 

Who  sang  so  sweetly  'neath  our  lattice  window 

At  a  late  hour  ?  I  woke  to  hear  a  song 

Mingle  with  plashings  of  the  fountain  till  I  dreamed 

Myself  in  fairy-land.     Methought  that  Merlin 

Had  built  a  magic  palace,  and  I  wandered 

In  its  delicious  gardens,  while  my  eye 

Saw  brightly  glimmering  tower,  and  portico, 

And  lovely  flowers,  and  clumps  of  clustered  trees ; 

While  over  all  the  fairy  moonlight  streamed 

With  such  soft  radiance  that  its  mellow  flood 

Made  even  enchantments  glow  more  magical ; 

And  all  the  while  such  dulcet  sounds  were  ringing 

In  my  rapt  ears  I  scarcely  saw  the  flowers, 

The  sculptured  porticos,  the  moonlit  trees, 

The  glistening  towers ;  but  felt  them  in  my  heart, 

Blended  with  melody. 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  45 

LADY. 

The  Lord  of  Lincoln 

Sang  to  his  harp  last  night  beside  the  fountain ; 
Your  majesty  hath  heard  him. 

QUEEN. 

Was  it  mortal  ? 

Sweeter  delight  to  dream  that  Merlin's  spells 
Had  fashioned  for  me  an  enchanted  scene, 
And  filled  it  with  the  song  of  fairy-land ; 
But  this  were  sin  perhaps :  my  careful  bishop 
Bids  me  beware  of  fancies  so  profane, 
Delusions  framed  by  man's  great  enemy 
To  hide  the  truth ;  but  in  my  infancy 
I  heard  such  tales  from  my  old  nurse's  lips, 
And  they  will  haunt  me  ever  with  their  glamour 
Of  bright  romance.     Fair  Enid,  from  thy  land 
Came  these  enchanted  tales — but  why  so  sad  ? 

ENID. 

The  smile  that  curls  a  captive's  trembling  lip 
Mocks  at  an  aching  heart.     Why  should  I  smile  ? 

QUEEN. 

Princess  of  Gwynedd,  is  thy  lot  so  hard, 
To  wait  upon  a  queen  ? 


46  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  n. 

ENID. 

Nay,  royal  lady, 
Not  service,  but  captivity  is  hard. 

QUEEN. 

List ;  in  his  golden  cage  yon  feathered  songster 
Warbles  his  melodies  as  joyously 
As  he  could  do  in  his  far  distant  home 

Beyond  the  sea. 

ENID. 

He  hath  forgotten  home. 

QUEEN. 
Why  cherish  memories  that  bring  but  sorrow  ? 

ENID. 

The  heart  is  memory.     A  silly  bird 
May  sing  from  empty  heart  gay  joyousness, 
Forgetting  all  except  the  golden  sunshine 
That   glimmers   down   through   flowers   and    rustling 

leaves 

To  gild  his  cage  with  summer ;  but  my  heart 
Can  see  no  summer  in  the  sun's  bright  rays, 
No  pleasure  in  these  robes  of  regal  pride, 
No  beauty  in  this  golden  cage,  your  palace. 
My  thoughts  are  far  away  on  Gwynedd's  hills 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin,  47 

With  my  own  people ;  or  they  fly  still  further, 

And  follow  Gwynedd's  king  and  my  brave  brother 

Tracing  sad  steps  upon  a  foreign  land. 

And  you  would  have  me  smile?     O  royal  lady, 

My  thanks  are  due  for  all  these  courtesies, 

This  rich  attire  more  splendid  than  my  wont, 

A  royal  lodging,  servants  to  wait  on  me, 

And  costly  equipage.     If  I  were  free, 

And  in  my  Gwynedd,  my  vain,  woman's  heart 

Would  beat  with  joy  to  have  such  queenly  state ; 

But  here  I  am  a  captive,  and  this  pomp 

Seems  to  my  heart  an  idle  mockery; 

QUEEN. 

As  much  unto  my  royal  lord,  the  king, 
Thy  thanks  are  due.     Thou  art  a  Cymrian  prifccess ; 
And  his  intent — not  yet  perhaps  matured — 
Will  send  thee  back  to  thy  loved  land,  thy  Gwynedd, 
In  greater  state  than  when  he  brought  thee  thence. 

ENID. 
To  Gwynedd  ?     O  dear  lady  !  when  ? 

QUEEN. 

Nay,  child, 
I  cannot  tell ;  the  king  hath  plans  of  state. 


48  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  11. 

Enter  GOLDDIN. 

GOLDDIN. 
Your  majesty — the  king  ! 

QUEEN. 
As  ever  welcome. 

Exit  GOLDDIN. 

Ladies,  we  will  receive  the  king.     Fair  Enid, 
Stay  by  my  side. 

Re-enter  GOLDDIN,  ushering  the  KING,  EARL 
BLECCA,  Com,  PAULINUS,  and  the  kings 
attendants.  Exit  GOLDDIN. 

QUEEN. 
Good-morrow,  my  dear  king. 

KING. 

Sweet  queen,  thy  subject. 

QUEEN. 
Good-morrow,  lords. 

To  PAULINUS. 

My  duty,  holy  father. 

PAULINUS. 
Bless  thee,  my  child. 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  49 

QUEEN. 

Earl  Blecca,  must  we  thank 
Your  loyalty  for  an  enchanted  dream 
That  your  sweet  music  brought  to  us  last  night  ? 
Or  were  those  magic  spells  of  harp  and  song 
Designed  for  our  fair  princess? 

BLECCA. 

Gracious  lady, 

My  harp  and  song  are  loyal  to  my  queen, 
And  to  her  court  of  beauty.     Nay,  my  spells 
May  not  be  cast  to  work  especial  charm 
Upon  your  princess.     The  Lord  Coifi,  lady, 
Sits  up  all  night,  and  learns  to  thrum  the  harp, 
That  he  may  be  her  minstrel. 

QUEEN. 

What?  Lord  Coifi! 

KING. 

Dear  queen,  we  shall  expect  much  gratitude 
For  our  good  news.     This  worthy  Coifi,  led 
By  thy  example  and  thy  bishop's  teaching, 
Hath  come  to  know  the  true  God  from  the  false  ; 
He  hath  awaked  out  of  a  troubled  dream 
To  find  those  things  are  phantoms  of  his  sleep 


50  At  the  Court  of  King  Echvin,        [ACT  n. 

Which,  while  he  dreamed,  he  fancied  deities. 
He  will  renounce  the  Norse  gods,  and  with  us 
Call  on  the  people  to  adopt  thy  faith. 

QUEEN. 
Most  thankfully  I  bless  the  holy  saints  ! 

PAULINUS. 

A  light  from  heaven  is  shining  on  this  land, 
Whose  pure,  sweet  rays,  flooding  the  hearts  of  men, 
Will  wash  away  the  stains  of  false  belief, 
And  leave  the  truths,  inherent  in  man's  breast, 
Faith,  worship,  veneration,  homage,  trust, 
Cleared  of  the  painting  of  idolatry, 
To  shine  of  their  own  crystal  purity, 
More  beautiful  than  any  artist  tinting       $ 
Imagination's  touch  can  put  on  them. 
Here  will  we  raise  our  church  upon  the  site 
Of  Odin's  broken  altars,  and  the  ruins 
Of  an  old  faith  shall  serve  to  build  the  new  ; 
For  Truth  sits  ever  on  a  past  untruth, 
More  glorious  that  the  thing  she  overturned 
Was  once  deemed  glorious.     O  great  king  and  queen, 
Your  hands  are  blessed  that  ye  can  build  this  church, 
Can  send  an  influence  of  example  out, 
Will  bring  forth  harvest,  as  the  fruitful  seeds, 


SCENE  I.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  5 1 

Sown  by  a  careful  husbandman  in  lands 
Broken  and  fallow  by  a  winter's  frosts, 
Bring  forth  abundance  in  the  sickle-time. 

KING. 

The  land  is  ploughed ;  thou  hast  the  fruitful  seed, 
And  April  rains  are  near. 

To  Coin. 

Put  on  thy  apron, 
My  Coifi,  for  the  planting. 

COIFI. 

Your  majesty, 

The  people  cannot  choose  but  take  this  faith 
When  I  shall  say  the  JEsir  gods  are  dead — 
Dead  of  old  age ;  that  Midgard's  mighty  serpent 
And  fierce  wolf,  Fenrir,  both  in  silence  perished, 
Subdued,  destroyed,  when  on  their  fierceness  fell 
The  shadow  of  the  cross;  that  Surtur's  torch 
Went  out,  and  left  the  world  unburned  ; 
While  sun  and  moon,  no  more  pursued  by  foes, 
May  calmly  sail  upon  their  radiant  curves, 
Or  pause  to  shed  more  light  upon  the  world 
At  His  command,  who  hangs  upon  the  cross. 


52  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  11. 

BLECCA  to  ENID. 

Your  Coifi  hath  eclipsed  the  fame  of  Thor, 
Destroying  Fenrir  and  the  Midgard  serpent. 

ENID  to  BLECCA. 
My  Coifi? 

BLECCA  to  ENID. 
Ay. 

KING. 

That  all  the  world  may  know 
How  much  we  value  Coifi's  wise  example, 
We  here  proclaim  that  we  will  make  him  king 
Of  conquered  Gwynedd,  and  will  give  its  princess, 
His  royal  bride ;  so  may  he  bring  the  land 
To  his  new  faith,  and  wear  its  majesty, 
Subject  alone  unto  our  greater  will. 
Fair  Enid,  thus  thy  short  captivity 
Shall  end  in  regal  state. 

ENID. 

My  lord,  the  king, 
I  cannot  wed  Lord  Coifi. 

KING. 
Why  ? 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  53 

ENID. 

My  hand 
Is  promised  to  King  Penda. 

KING. 

Nay,  fair  princess ; 

The  chance  of  fortune  cast  thee  in  our  hands, 
A  captive  ;  yet  we  make  of  thee  a  ward 
Under  our  royal  will.     The  queen  will  tell  thee, 
Young  maidens  may  not  give  their  hands  away 
But  by  direction.     We  would  give  thy  land 
Back  to  its  ancient  line,  so  the  blue  blood         » 
Of  its  old  royalty  may  fill  the  veins 
Of  future  kings ;  but  we  must  have  a  king 
On  Gwynedd's  throne  obedient  to  our  will; 
And  we  must  have  a  Christian.     Of  old  time 
Thy  land  was  Christian,  and  again  it  must   . 
Bow  down  before  the  cross.     Be  thou  content, 
Princess  of  Gwynedd,  to  accept  the  hand 
Of  him  thy  royal  guardians  shall  direct ; 
Not  pagan  Penda,  Mercia's  warlike  king, — 
Reasons  of  state  stand  up  'twixt  him  and  thee, — 
But  our  King  Coifi,  to  whose  prudent  care, 
And  thine,  we  give  a  kingdom. 

ENID. 

King  of  Deira, 


54  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  n. 

I  am  a  captive,  not  a  subject ;  pray  you, 

If  you  will  seize  upon  my  uncle's  throne, 

Give  it  among  your  people,  not  to  one 

Who  would  not  keep  her  kinsman  from  his  own. 

Let  the  Lord  Coifi  place  a  Saxon  wife 

On  Gwynedd's  throne,  not  the  unfortunate  Enid, 

Who  will  lament  in  a  more  lowly  place 

Misfortune's  rigor  to  her  land  and  kindred. 

KING. 
Princess,  no  more ;  it  must  be  as  we  will. 

9 

COIFI. 
Fair  princess,  I  would  rather  wed  you  than  a  Saxon. 

ENID. 

Thank  you,  my  lord,  for  idle  compliment ; 
But  my  poor  hand  is  pledged. 

QUEEN,  who  has  overheard  COIFI. 

What  shall  we  think — 
We  Saxon  ladies — of  such  choice,  Lord  Coifi  ? 

COIFI. 

My  sovereign  lady,  think  that  Coifi  blunders, 
Being  unused  to  ladies,  love,  and  court. 

BLECCA. 
Think  the  Lord  Coifi,  most  majestic  queen, 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  5  5 

Is  like  a  child  enchanted  with  a  top, 

And  while  he  hangs  above  the  whirling  toy, 

Forgets  the  world  hath  other  toys  than  his. 

QUEEN. 

Ha  !  my  Lord  Lincoln,  art  thou  traitor  too, 
Calling  thy  queen  a  toy  ? 

Bi ECCA. 

Nay,  nay,  indeed  ; — 

Save  as  the  sun,  and  moon,  and  shining  stars 
Are  toys  to  children. 

QUEEN. 

Then  is  Coifi,  child  ? 

BLECCA. 
True  !  madam,  just  born  to  your  Christian  faith. 

KING. 

Dear  queen,  this  Blecca  hath  a  subtle  wit, 
And  claims  beside  to  be  a  nightingale, 
And  calls  our  poesy  an  eagle's  scream. 

QUEEN  to  BLECCA. 
Traitor  again  ;  defend  thyself,  my  lord. 

BLECCA. 
Lord  Coifi's  wit,  great  queen,  defends  me  now. 


56  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  n. 

QUEEN. 

Lord  Coifi's  wit  ? 

BLECCA. 

He  saith,  the  eagle's  scream, 
Though  harsh  of  note,  is  tuned  to  victory ; 
Which  makes  the  king  a  victor  over  song. 

COIFI,  aside  to  ENID. 

Princess,  think  not  I  rather  prize  the  throne 
Than  you. 

ENID,  aside  to  COIFI. 
My  lord,  I  am  a  slave,  a  captive, 
Alone  amid  my  enemies ;  be  noble, 
Generous  as  brave,  and  help  them  not  to  crush  me. 

Enter  GOLDDIN  and  BRIAN. 

GOLDDIN. 

Your  queenly  majesty,  a  pilgrim  begs 
To  kiss  your  hand,  and  kneel  before  your  throne ; 
And — for  he  has  a  vow  to  hide  his  face, 
And  speak  not — comes  in  silence — silence — ah  ! 

PAULINUS. 

It  is  in  penance  for  a  grievous  sin 
He  hides  his  face,  and  comes  with  silent  tongue ; 
It  shows  a  contrite  heart  to  put  aside 


SCENE  I.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Ed^v^n.  57 

The  shows  and  pleasures  of  the  giddy  world, 
And  expiate  a  fault. 

QUEEN. 
Sir  Penitent, 

We  thank  you  for  your  courtesy,  and  hope 
Your  pilgrimage  draws  near  an  end. 

BRIAN  kneels,  kisses  the  queen's  hand,  and  pre- 
sents to  her  a  golden  cross  to  which  is  attached 
a  ring. 

A  cross  and  ring  ! — my  thanks.    Take  this,  Sir  Pilgrim, 
And  count  your  prayers  upon  its  golden  links. 

The  QUEEN  gives  BRIAN  a  chain  from  her  neck. 
Exit  BRIAN. 

KING. 

When  next  I  wish  to  win  a  lady's  gifts, 
I'll  go  in  silence  with  a  covered  face. 

QUEEN. 
Not  so,  my  king ;  with  thee  bare  face  will  win. 

BLECCA,  aside. 
So  the  queen  pays  a  barefaced  compliment. 

QUEEN. 

See  this  strange  ring,  dear  king — a  dragon's  head 
On  a  bird's  body. 


58  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  n. 

KING. 

It  is  strange,  fair  queen  ; 

I  know  not  what  the  quaint  device  may  mean. 
Earl  Blecca,  thou  art  learned  in  mystic  things ; 
Or  thou,  or  Pellitus,  must  read  this  ring. 

BLECCA,  after  looking  at  the  ring. 
Nay,  king,  'tis  not  a  nightingale  or  eagle; 
I  cannot  read  it,  yet  the  fashion  seems 
Somewhat  to  smack  of  Cymry ;  it  may  be 
The  Princess  Enid  can  decipher  it. 
BLECCA  gives  the  ring  to  ENID. 

ENID. 

It  calls  up  to  my  mind  pictures  of  old — 
My  father's  palace,  in  one  hall  of  which 
Methinks  a  shape  like  this  was  cut  in  stone 
Above  the  doorway. 

Gives  back  the  ring  to  BLECCA.    Aside, 
'Tis  my  brother's  ring. 

BLECCA. 

'Tis  Cymrian,  though  perchance  of  so  long  past, 
The  thought  once  pictured  in  its  curious  shape 
Is  lost  with  the  old  thinkers  who  contrived  it. 
Gives  the  ring  to  PAULINUS. 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  59 

KING. 
What  says  the  wise  Paulinus  ? 

PAULINUS. 

'Tis  a  thing 

Born  of  a  pagan  thought ;  and  doubtless  comes 
From  far-off  Egypt,  land  of  worshipped  birds 
And  monstrous  beasts — ay,  brought  of  old  to  Cymry 
By  some  adventurous  Druid  who  returned 
From  Eastern  wandering  to  graft  new  gods 
On  the  old  stock  of  his  idolatry; 
But  the  graft  failing,  still  the  symbol  lives 
To  mock  idolatrous  man  above  his  doors 
Or  thus  engraven  on  an  ancient  ring. 
Gives  the  ring  to  Coin. 

KING. 

I  must  entreat  the  queen  to  lend  this  ring 
So  mystically  cut,  and  strangely  brought 
By  unknown  pilgrim,  that  my  sorcerer 
May  mutter  over  it  his  magic  spells 
And  bid  his  demons  bring  its  history. 

PAULINUS. 

Still  will  you  tamper  with  the  spirit  of  evil  ? 
O  king,  you  seek  the  truth ;  no  truth  can  come 
Of  evil ;  truth  comes  out  of  Goodness,  God. 


60  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  n. 

Of  light  comes  light :  the  sun  produces  day, 
And  the  night,  darkness.     So  will  you  be  led 
Into  a  fatal  snare  by  Pellitus, 
And  see  his  devils  mock  and  gibe  at  you. 

KING. 

There  is  no  other  way  to  read  the  ring ; 
Thy  angels  will  not  help  me ;  I  must  try 
His  demons,  or  be  left  in  ignorance, 
As  black  a  thing  as  are  my  wizard's  imps. 
If  they  would  harm  me,  lo  !  I  have  thy  cross 
To  scare  them  back  into  black  halls  of  night. 

COIFI,  who  has  been  examining  the  ring. 
Perchance,  O  king,  the  bearer  of  the  ring 
May  know  its  story ;  and  there  is  a  way 
To  change  his  silence  into  eloquence. 

BLECCA,  aside. 
A  barbarous — Christian  that  would  murder  romance  ! 

QUEEN. 

Ah,  king,  I  pray  thee  do  not  hurt  my  pilgrim  ! 
Thou  wicked  Coifi,  half  a  pagan  yet ! 

KING. 
Fear  not,  my  queen ;  he  hath  a  shielding  saint, 


SCENE  I.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  61 

And  none  shall  offer  harm  or  insult  to  him, 
Nor  touch  his  mystery  unless  my  Pellitus 
Can  pluck  it  forth  out  of  this  antique  ring. 

QUEEN. 

Thanks,  my  dear  king ;  all  this  is  like  a  story 
Which  my  old  nurse  would  tell  me  long  ago  : 
This  pilgrim — mystery — and  a  strange  ring  ; 
I'll  dream  of  it,  and  picture  in  my  fancy 
That  Merlin  weaves  a  spell  about  our  court. 

t  PAULINUS. 

Rather,  my  daughter,  learn  to  read  the  book 
Sent  by  our  holy  father,  and  emblazoned 
With  pictured  shapes  of  the  immortal  saints 
And,  on  one  cover  in  a  silver  glory 
Set  round  with  flaming  crystal  and  with  beryl, 
The  Holy  One,  the  Lord  and  Prince  of  Love — 
The  Lord  of  Love  kneeling  to  bless  the  world. 
So  let  imagination  dwell  on  Him, 
And  banish  these  vain  thoughts  of  paganism. 

KING. 

Farewell,  dear  queen  ;  we  leave  thee  to  thy  musings 
Of  fairy-land  and  Merlin,  or  of  saints. 

Exeunt. 


62  At  the  Court  of  King-  Edwin.       [ACT  n. 

SCENE  II.— AN  ANTEROOM. OF  THE  QUEEN'S 
APARTMENTS. 

Enter  PELLITUS. 

PELLITUS. 

So  !  so  ! — this  ample  curtain  will  conceal  me ; 
Beneath  its  folds  I  shall  be  safely  hid. 
Charms  may  do  well  to  cheat  the  credulous, 
But  for  the  wise  there's  naught  like  native  wit. 
So  I  risk  all ;  but  desperate  hurts  are  cured 
By  desperate  remedies ;  and  this,  my  hurt, 
Is  past  all  cure  save  shrewd  empiricism. 
The  garrulous  house-thegn — whom  I  met  but  now, 
And  questioned  of  his  errand — goes  to  bring 
The  pilgrim  hither  to  a  second  audience  \ 
Here  is  a  mystery  that  I  must  solve, 
A  secret  motive  I  must  puzzle  out. 
Who  hath  the  secrets  of  a  human  heart 
Hath  half  the  power  of  the  divinity 
That  governs  fortune — ay,  the  better  half. 
I  ask  no  magic  of  more  potent  force 
Than  knowledge;  having  which,  my  human  wit 
Can  stay,  or  faster  turn,  blind  Fortune's  wheel, 
And  act  the  fateful  god — a  key  to  power ; 
And  power  I  must  have,  or  look  idly  on 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Ed^wn.  63 

While  she,  the  thought  of  whom  inflames  my  brain, 
Scorches  my  liver  like  a  fierce  love-philter, 
Will  fly  beyond  the  reach  of  wit  or  charm — 
Ho  !  rustling  robes — it  is  the  princess  comes; 
So,  while  I  wave  my  wand,  I  disappear. 

PELLITUS  conceals  himself  behind  a  curtain. 
Enter  ENID. 

ENID. 

My  brother's  ring  and — as  it  flashed  upon  me 
Like  glimpse  of  torchlight  through  half-opened  door 
When  I  beheld  that  token — the  same  height 
And  bold,  free  step.     Brave  brother,  thou  hast  come 
To  set  me  free  from  this  gay-painted  prison, 
Where  danger  masks  in  smiles  and  silken  robes, 
And  bear  me  off  to  our  free,  native  hills, 
Where,  through  the  heather,  leaps  the  wild  red  deer, 
And  where  the  sky-lark  sings  a  braver  song 
Than  ever  sung  their  love-sick  nightingales. 
Would  he  were  come  !     I  must  with  watchful  care 
Keep  down  my  heart,  and  school  my  prudent  lips 
To  few,  low  words  ;  one  word  too  loudly  spoken, 
And  overheard,  might  bring  down  unkind  fate. 
What  a  wise  brother  to  so  give  his  ring  ! — 
Be  still,  my  heart ;  he  comes. 

Enter  GOLDDIN  and  BRIAN. 


64  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  n. 

GOLDDIN. 

Fair  princess,  in  obedience  to  the  queen 
I  bring  the  pilgrim — what  the  ladies  love, 
A  silent  man  ! — a  silent  man — ha-ha ! 

ENID. 
Thanks,  my  good  Golddin  ;  thou  art  good  as  gold. 

GOLDDIN. 

To  see  your  sweet  face,  is  a  purse  of  gold. 
You  are  a  stranger  here,  but  all  will  serve  you 
For  that  same  sweetness ;  if  you  need  a  service 
Golddin  can  do,  count  Golddin  too  your  slave — 
Your  slave — ha-ha  ! 

Exit  QOLDDIN. 

ENID,  running  to  BRIAN. 
O  Brian ! 

BRIAN,  putting  back  his  hood. 
Enid,  sister ! 

ENID  throws  herself  in  his  arms. 
Stay,  stay  thy  tears,  poor  child — nay,  nay,  my  sister ; 
This  heart,  that  flutters  so  upon  my  breast, 
Seemed  calm  before  the  queen.     Be  brave,  my  girl ; 
We  must  be  brave  to  win  us  back  to  Gwynedd. 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  65 

ENID. 
My  brother,  hast  thou  come  to  take  me  back  ? 

BRIAN. 

Ay,  if  thou  wilt ;  but  thou  art  fine,  my  sister, 
Robed  like  a  queen  ;  perhaps  this  finery 
Hath    won    thy    heart,    and    banished    thoughts    of 
Gwynedd  ? 

ENID. 

Brian,  they  deck  me  thus  to  make  me  queen — 
The  queen  of  Gwynedd. 

BRIAN. 

Thou,  the  queen  of  Gwynedd? 

ENID. 

Ay,  Brian  ;  but  they  first  would  husband  me 
With  the  priest,  Coifi,  whom  my  heart  abhors 
With  an  unutterable  loathing — ay, 
Him  would  they  set  upon  Cadwallbn's  throne, 
And  me,  his  queen. 

BRIAN. 

I  understand  it  not — 

Coifi,  a  priest,  to  rule  our  untamed  people? 
A  priest  of  Odin  may  not  carry  arms. 


66  At  the  Court  of  King  Edivin.       [ACT  n. 

ENID. 

I  had  forgotten ;  he  is  priest  no  more, 
But  hath  become  a  Christian. 

BRIAN. 

Oh  !  the  bribe, 

Thou  and  the  throne  of  Gwynedd ;  'tis  enough 
To  buy  the  fealty  of  a  priest  of  Odin. 
Now  do  I  comprehend  the  speech  I  heard, 
Of  king  and  Coifi  in  the  hall-of-waiting. 
But  we  will  mar  their  plans.     Listen,  pale  girl, 
While  I  shall  call  the  color  to  thy  cheeks  : 
King  Penda  comes  to  claim  thee  of  King  Edwin, — 
Ah  !  now  the  lily  borrows  from  the  rose, — 
But  Edwin  will  not  give  his  captive  up ; 
His  Mercian  vassal  is  too  strong  even  now, 
And  such  alliance  might  unvassal  him. 
So,  sister,  thou  and  I  must  fly  to-night; 
I  have  my  horses,  stabled  here  hard  by, 
And  friends  at  hand  to  help  our  enterprise. 
At  midnight  meet  me  in  the  corridor 
Outside  these  rooms,  equipped  for  travelling, 
And,  ere  the  sun  from  saffron  edge  of  hills 
Springs  to  his  daily  journey,  thou  shalt  be 
Far  from  the  perils  of  this  gilded  court. 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  •  67 

ENID. 

What  joy  to  breathe  the  mountain  airs  once  more, 
And  cast  this  shining  queenery  aside 
For  my  own  garb  of  Gwynedd's  highland  princess, — 
But  Penda — shall  I  see  him? 

BRIAN. 

Nay,  my  rose ; 

The  Mercian  king  will  ask  thee  of  King  Edwin, 
Although  he  knows  that  asking  is  not  having ; 
Or  he  hath  reasons  why  he  asks  in  state 
For  that  he  knows  state-reasons  will  refuse  him ; 
So  state  puts  on  formality  ofttimes, 
And  pompous  question,  when  the  answer's  known 
Before  the  question's  asked.     I  have  not  seen 
King  Penda;  but  upon  my  journey  hither 
One  of  his  court^I  met,  and  learned,  the  king 
Will  come  in  largest  state  to  offer  ransom 
And  claim  the  hand  of  Gwynedd's  captive  princess. 
What  out  of  this  may  grow,  I  cannot  tell, 
But  not  thy  freedom ;  so  prepare  to  ride 
With  me  to-night ;  meantime  another  purpose 
Must  have  my  thought:  hast  seen  the  king's  magician? 

ENID. 
Yea,  Pellitus ;  a  man  of  wise,  grave  face, 


68  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  n. 

Thought  in  his  eyes,  and  cunning  in  his  tongue ; 
He  wears  a  wizard's  gown,  and  bears  a  staff. 

PELLITUS,  aside. 

She  paints  my  picture ;  paint  it  handsomer, 
Sweet  princess — ha!  what  would  the  Cymrian? 

BRIAN. 
Enid,  this  man  hath  been  thy  country's  bane. 

ENID. 

He  ever  looked  most  ugly  to  my  eye, 
Now  will  my  thought  give  him  a  shape  more  ill 
Than  that  he  bears. 

PELLITUS,  aside. 

O  Cymrian,  thou  diest  for  this ! 

I 
BRIAN. 

Thrice  hath  Cadvvallon  sought  to  come  again, 
And,  with  good  help  of  brave  and  trusty  friends, 
Set  up  his  power  in  Gwynedd ;  but  in  each 
This  curst  magician  knew  our  secret  plans ; 
King  Edwin's  men  opposed  us  on  the  shore, 
And  forced  us  back  to  sea.     He  hath  a  demon 
Shaped  like  a  sea-bird,  black,  with  sail-like  wings, 


SCEN7E  ii.]    At  tlie  Coitrt  of  King  Edivin.  69 

That  flaps  along  the  coast,  and  out  to  sea, 
Who,  when  he  marks  Cadwallon's  glinting  sails, 
Hastes  with  wild  cries  to  Pellitus,  his  master — 
Yea,  it  is  true ;  I  heard  the  fishermen 
Tell  of  the  uncouth  bird,  his  gabbling  screams, 
And  how  the  native  sea-birds  of  the  shore 
Fly  far,  wild-shrieking,  when  his  shadow  casts 
A  spot  of  blackness  on  the  bright,  green  waves. 
Sister,  -for  Gwynedd's  sake  the  sorcerer's  life 
Must  end  to-night — nay,  turn  not  pale,  dear  child ; 
This  is  my  work ;  be  thou  in  readiness 
At  midnight. 

ENID. 

Brian,  Pellitus  is  wise — 

Ay,  wiser  than  thou  deem'st ;  guard  well  thyself 
If  this  thing  must  be  done. 

BRIAN. 

Fear  not,  poor  trembler; 
But  rest  thee  well ;  we  shall  ride  hard  to-night. 
Now  a  farewell  till  midnight. 

ENID. 

Brother,  farewell. 

Exit  BRIAN. 
Brave  Brian,  how  thy  step  belies  thy  garb  ! 


70  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  11. 

Befriend  him,  powers  unseen,  that  wait  on  men, 

And  shape  the  course  of  accident  aright. 

On  what  a  little  thread  life  hangs, 

And  yet  so  strong,  a  sea  of  circumstance 

May  dash  upon  it,  and  it  will  not  break ; 

Again,  a  careless  word,  a  look,  an  act, 

And,  as  a  breath-puff  tears  a  gossamer, 

It  is  destroyed  ! — Alas  !  my  brother's  life 

Hangs  by  such  perilous  thread. 

PELLITUS,  coming  forward. 

You  hold  the  thread 
Of  Brian's  life. 

ENID. 
Oh !—  Pellitus ! 

PELLITUS. 

Ay,  lady, 

Your  fair  white  fingers  hold  the  shining  thread 
That  reaches  up  from  Brian  to  the  stars. 

ENID. 
Mine? — mine? 

PELLITUS. 
Ay,  yours  and  mine. 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  71 

ENID. 

How  mine? 

PELLITUS. 

Thus,  princess : 

Content  you  Pellitus,  and  "powers  unseen" 
Will  hear  the  prayer  your  sweet  lips  breathed  to  them, 
And  lead  your  brother  safe  from  every  peril ; 
Content  him  not,  and  they,  the  unseen  powers, 
Turning  a  deaf  ear  to  your  fondest  prayers, 
Will  cast  a  snare  for  his  unwary  feet, 
Falling  by  which,  your  brother's  life  is  lost ; 
The  fowler,  Death,  will  twist  his  neck  awry, 
As  the  bird-catcher  kills  the  fowls  he  nets. 

t 
ENID. 

But  how  content  ? — 

PELLITUS. 

Fair  princess,  by  your  love. 
Although  my  head  be  crownless,  and  this  wand 
No  jewelled  sceptre  dazzling  the  eyes  of  men 
With  show  of  power,  I  ask  and  offer  love. 
Sceptre  and  crown  are  symbols  :  power  is  real ; 
Man  is  but  man  beneath  his  majesty, 
And  kingly  state  oft  covers  feebleness  ; 


72  At  the  Court  of  King  Eckvin.        [ACT  11. 

The  while  the  energy  that  rules  mankind 

Hath  oft  no  greater  palace  than  a  head 

Uncapped  by  golden  circle ;  nor  a  name 

More  splendid  than  my  title,  wizard — wise-man — 

A  title  broader  than  the  style  of  king. 

Will  you  have  gold?  my  gnomes  shall  bring  you  wealth 

Enough  to  buy  a  kingdom.     Life,  a  queen's — 

What  is  it? — vexation,  sorrow,  waiting,  weeping, 

A  flitting  joy  or  two,  perhaps,  to  make 

Pain's  tooth  bite  deeper — pain,  a  reality, 

And  bliss,  a  myth.     Will  you  have  this?  or  rather, 

Instead  of  such  a  pain-en  woven  fabric, 

Sweet,  magical  enchantments,  blissful  joys 

Beyond  the  fondest  hope  that  ever  thrilled 

Young  heart,  beyond  the  most  delicious  dream 

That  ever  made  a  passionate  bosom  heave 

In  the  imaginative  visions  of  sleep  ? 

Or,  if  you  will,  the  majesty  of  power 

Shall  sit  upon  your  brow :  no  queen  in  England 

Shall  have  more  noble  state — a  shining  court 

Whose  gay  magnificence  the  tongue  of  fame 

Shall  noise  abroad.     Fair  princess,  give  me  love 

For  this  good  dower. 

ENID. 
Let  me  be  dowerless, 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edivin.  73 

And  banish  from  your  thought  a  foolish  girl 
Who  hath  no  love  to  pay  for  such  great  gifts. 

PELLITUS. 

Princess,  you  mock  me ;  but  my  heart  cries  out 
Against  refusal.     Lo  !  the  stars  proclaim  it ; 
And  in  enchanted  runes  'tis  written  down ; 
And  spells  and  incantations  promise  it : 
Fate  interweaves  our  twisted  threads  of  life. 

Attempts  to  take  her  hand,  which  ENID  refuses, 
Nay,  do  not  shrink. 

ENID. 
I  cannot  give  you  love. 

PELLITUS. 
I  offer  much  in  payment  for  your  heart. 

ENID. 

Who  would  buy  love,  insults  the  heart's  clear  purity 
With  such  base  proffer. 

PELLITUS. 

What  doth  the  lover  offer 
But  barter  of  his  heart  of  love  for  hers? 
Lo  !  this  I  offer  you,  and  with  a  heart 


74  ^  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  n. 

As  fond,  as  tender  as  e'er  lover  offered, 
Magnificence,  dominion,  wisdom,  wealth. 

ENID. 
I  cannot  buy  this  richness. 

PELLITUS. 

And  your  brother  ? 

ENID. 
I  pray  you,  save  him,  and  accept  my  friendship. 

PELLITUS. 

Nothing  but  love. 

ENID. 

I  cannot  give  you  love. 

PELLITUS. 

Listen  :  your  face  hath  grown  into  my  brain 
Till  all  my  heart  hungers  to  have  your  love ; 
It  is  a  passion,  a  consuming  fire — 
Look  that  you  mock  me  not !     I  am  not  one 
To  sigh  at  woman's  feet.     Give  my  heart  food, 
And  I  will  heap  your  lap  with  precious  things 
Till  Fortune  in  amaze  forget  her  blindness 
To  stare  with  envy  from  wide-opened  eyes — 
And,  with  such  gifts,  a  love  more  rich  than  wealth ; 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  75 

Repulse  me,  and  you  turn  to  direst  ill 

What,  in  your  smile,  were  good.     Ah  !  can  you  love 

The  priest  of  Odin,  in  whose  low-roofed  skull 

Thought  lies  asleep,  while  naught  but  animal  instincts 

Instruct  the  man  ?  or  Penda,  Mercian  wolf, 

Who  knows  but  war,  and  worships  his  own  axe, 

His  highest  notion  of  a  deity  ? 

In  all  that  makes  a  man  better  than  beasts 

Am  I  much  nobler  than  these  twain. 

ENID. 

O  sir, 

As  you  are  nobler  in  a  larger  light 
Of  mind,  be  greater  in  your  acts  than  those 
Who  know  no  purpose  but  to  serve  themselves : 
Save  my  brave  brother  from  his  perilous  chance, 
Nor  seek  from  me  what  is  not  mine  to  give ; 
In  place  of  love  take  bounteous  gratitude, 
And  let  it  satisfy  your  hungry  heart. 

PELLITUS. 

I  will  not  have  it ;  'tis  to  show  the  famished 
A  painted  loaf,  a  carven  form  of  food — 
Ho,  gratitude  !  a  name,  a  gilded  crown 
The  wise  have  made  to  top  the  head  of  Folly. 
Lady,  for  the  first  time  of  all  my  life 


76  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  n. 

I  have  laid  bare  my  heart  ;  you  have  refused  it ; 
There  is  no  more  but  this :  what  you  deny 
I  yet  will  have.     Think  not  I  speak  in  vain  ; 
'Tis  not  my  habit,  nor  my  use  of  words. 
Look  !     I  will  summon  up  all  forms  of  power, 
And  work  unseen,  foreseeing  what  will  be. 
Farewell.     Your  brother — you  shall  hear  from  him  ; 
But  do  not  hope  to  ride  with  him  to-night. 

ENID. 
Spend  all  your  wrath  on  me ;  but  spare  my  brother. 

h 

PELLITUS. 

Your  love  ? 

ENID. 
Ah,  no ! 

PELLITUS. 

All  else  is  idle  talk. 
PELLITUS  is  going. 

ENID. 
Stay  !  stay  ! 

PELLITUS. 


For  love  ? 


ENID. 

No  !  no ! 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  77 

PELLITUS. 

Princess,  farewell. 

Exit  PELLITUS. 
ENID. 

My  bro.ther  ! — O  my  brother,  I  have  slain  thee  ! 

What  can  I  do  ?  may  I  not  seek  the  queen, 

And  tell  her  all  ?  ah,  still  I  slay  my  brother ! 

Unhappy  Enid  !  how  shall  she  escape 

Or  Coifi,  or  this  dreadful  Pellitus 

Whose  threats  hang  round  her  as  the  air  were  full 

Of  spying  demons?     Why  delays  King  Penda? — 

Reasons  of  state  ! — while  these  state-reasons  stay, 

Enid  and  Brian  both  may  be  destroyed. 

Why  swells  my  heart  ?  what  flashes  on  my  brain  ? 

Ay  ; — so  at  least  I  triumph  over  Pellitus, 

And  save  my  brother: — promise  all  he  asks 

When  Brian  shall  be  free,  then  with  this  dagger 

Cancel  rash  promises.     So  shall  I  save 

The  richer  of  two  lives ; — but  I  will  see 

No  more  my  Gwynedd ;  no  more  breathe  the  air 

Blowing  o'er  heathery  hills.     So  young  to  die  ! 

And  Penda — will  he  seek  another  bride  ? 

Or  feel  regret  state-reasons  lost  him  Enid? 

Exit. 


78  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  in. 


ACT    III. 
SCENE   I.— THE   KING'S  APARTMENT. 

KING. 

The  world  outgrows  beliefs :  the  boy  becomes 
Too  big  for  la?t  year's  garments,  slips  them  off, 
And  dons  the  new ;  in  which  he  feels  at  ease 
Until  he  gains  the  size  that  these  allow, 
Then  they,  too,  pinch  him.     Truth  is  back  of  all ; 
But  truth,  perhaps,  would  suit  us  quite  as  ill 
As  the  man's  raiment  would  a  little  child. 
So  we  have  grown  beyond  belief  in  Odin, 
And  legends  suited  to  a  former  age, 
Which  cramp  us  now.     For  sea-king  and  his  band, 
Sitting  around  the  crowded  galley's  edge 
Behind  the  wall  of  shields,  to  sing  of  Thor, 
Or  Freya's  love-songs,  -while  the  salt  waves  flash 
With  dip  of  oars,  or  while  the  sea-winds  sweep 
Over  the  ridgy  billows  in  wild  gusts, 
And  screams  the  osprey  circling  round  the  mast, 
Scared  by  a  music  wilder  than  his  own, 
Suited  an  age  of  heroes ; — this  is  past. 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  79 

Though  still  by  war  I  widen  out  my  rule 
Till  all  this  island  come  beneath  my  sway, 
Yet  would  I  wean  the  hearts  of  men  from  war, 
Building  foundations  of  a  steadfast  peace; 
And  Odin's  faith,  that  mocks  at  peaceful  laws, 
Must  yield  before  the  Christian. — Truth  ? — perhaps  ; 
At  least  the  change  will  give  us  present  ease, 
And  that  should  satisfy  our  much-cramped  souls. 
With  help  of  Coifi,  who  hath  sold  his  gods 
For  a  good  price,  I'll  cast  old  idols  down, 
And  build  anew ;  so  shall  my  people  come 
Into  the  garments  of  a  larger  faith. 
Enter  PELLITUS. 

This  Pellitus  hath  wisdom,  not  belief; 
Or  what  he  hath,  he  hides. 

To  PELLITUS. 

Well,  Pellitus? 

PELLITUS. 
Your  majesty,  I  bring  you  back  the  antique  ring. 

KING. 
O'er  which  your  muttered  spells  have  been  in  vain. 

PELLITUS. 
What  would  you  learn,  O  king,  of  this  old  jewel  ? 


8o  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin,      [ACT  in. 

KING. 

First,  I  would  learn  from  it  of  you;  and  then, 
From  you,  of  it. 

PELLITUS. 

My  lord  the  king,  this  ring 

Speaks  with  two  voices  :  one,  antique  and  weird, 
Low  whispering  out  of  far-off  halls  of  time ; 
And  one,  a  present  voice,  here  in  your  palace. 

KING. 
Each  in  due  order.     What  says  its  old  tongue  ? 

PELLITUS. 

It  is  a  legend  of  an  olden  king 

Who  prayed  his  gods  to  send  him  down  a  steed 

From  the  bright  team  that  draws  the  sun's  hot  car: 

How  the  steed  came,  of  monstrous  size  and  shape, 

Shining  like  burnished  gold — a  fatal  gift; 

For  from  his  flashing  scales  such  fierce  rays  flamed 

They  burned  to  cinder  king  and  all  his  court ; 

Then  the  bright  creature  spread  his  golden  wings, 

And,  meteor-like,  flew  back  into  the  sun. 

This  ring  was  graven  by  an  antique  art 

With  shape  like  his  in  record  of  the  marvel, 

To  show  the  figure  of  the  wonderful  steed, 


SCENE  I.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  81 

And  warn  mankind  to  worship  gods  afar, 
Not  set  them  in  their  midst. 

KING. 

An  old  nurse- tale, 

But  in  its  heart  a  truth. — Ah  !  Pellitus, 
May  we  not  reach  beyond  the  picturing 
Of  symbols  to  the  truth  ? 

PELLITUS. 

The  mind  of  man 

Is  fashioned  so  by  Nature's  cunning  hand 
It  works  \yith  figures,  and  he  builds  him  gods, 
Wrought  into  shapes  ideal,  to  satisfy 
Desirings  of  his  soul.     'Tis  not  the  truth 
Looks  from  his  calm  god's  great,  unwinking  eyes, 
Or  mocks  him  in  his  symbols ;  but  a  creature 
Of  his  own  fancies  born,  their  picturing. 
The  wisest  thought,  searching  the  farthest  back, 
Ends  with  a  picture.     Life  is  a  sliding  row 
Of  pictures,  bright  and  fair,  perhaps,  to  one, 
And  rich  with  varied  meanings  that  illume 
Nature's  broad  purposes,  and  intimate 
By  subtle  lips  of  beauty-breathing  forms — 
Process  of  mysteries — yet  fairer  visions 
That  lie  beyond  their  shapes.     Unto  another 

6 


82  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  in. 

Life  is  a  senseless  line  of  doubtful  figures 
That  tell  him  nothing,  promise  nothing — blanks. 
What  there  may  be  beyond  these  pictures,  king, 
I  cannot  tell. 

KING. 

So,  then,  your  wisdom  finds 
No  more  than  this  ? 

PELLITUS. 

The  wisdom  is  to  know 

That  these  are  pictures  of  the  thoughts  within  us, 
The  lights  imagination  hangs  above  dark  doorways, 
But  not  outside  of  our  humanity. 

KING. 
Well !  of  this  ring :  what  is  its  second  voice  ? 

PELLITUS. 

Its  second  voice  is  not  an  old  nurse-tale  ; 
It  says :  King  Penda  cometh  to  your  court 
To  claim  the  Princess  Enid  ;  and  it  bids, 
Pull  off  the  pilgrim's  muffling  hood,  and  spy 
The  face  of  Brian. 

KING. 
Brian,  the  Cymrian? 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  83 

PELLITUS. 
Ay,  king. 

KING. 
What  brings  him  here  ? 

PELLITUS. 

He  hath  two  errands : 

The  one,  to  snatch  his  sister  from  your  court ; 
And  one,  to  slay  your  careful  counsellor. 

KING. 
You,  Pellitus  ?  why  you  ? 

PELLITUS. 

Because,  my  lord, 

My  watchful  demon,  flapping  round  the  coast, 
Hath  spied  Cadwallon's  ships,  and,  warning  me, 
Marred  every  enterprise. 

KING. 

Good  Pellitus, 
Call  up  the  captain  of  our  guard. 

Exit  PELLITUS. 
If  this  be  true, 

The  wizard's  demons  are  no  idle  help — 
Demons  !  nay,  rather  angels,  thus  contending 


84  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  in. 

With  evil ;  in  themselves  nor  good  nor  bad, 
But  good  or  bad  according  to  the  wish 
They  help  or  mar,  both  good  and  bad  at  once 
With  two  opposing  wishes;  'tis  to  shift 
Their  quality  from  that  wherein  it  should  be 
Into  ourselves,  if  good  and  evil  are 
But  in  our  estimation  ; — humph  !  the  thought 
Loses  itself  in  puzzling  sophistry. 

Re-enter  PELLITUS  and  captain. 
Captain,  bring  hither,  under  guard,  the  pilgrim. 

Exit  captain. 

Ah  !  Pellitus,  throw  off  th'  enchanter's  mask ; 
Tell  me  in  honest  truth  how  learned  you  this ; 
I  doubt  your  demons. 

PELLITUS. 

Doubt !  when  the  wind  howls, 
What  stirs  the  elements  to  storm  and  rage  ? 
What  pushes  over  an  invisible  arch 
The  burning  sun  ?  why  doth  the  pale  moon  shine 
With  altering  phase  ?     Do  you  doubt  these,  O  king, 
Because  you  cannot  see  th'  invisible  hands 
That   make   each   change?    then   wherefore   will   you 

doubt 

Of  my  obedient  demons?  There  are  powers, 
We  cannot  see,  so  subtle  in  their  essence 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  85 

That  human  sight  grasps  not  their  images  ; 

But  what  they  do,  as  sunshine,  lightning,  storm, 

Is  so  apparent  unto  conscious  matter 

That  even  the  torpid  earth  feels  their  strong  hands 

Upon  her,  and  cries,  midst  tumults,  or  midst  silence, 

"Lo!  the  gods  move  me,  and  send  down  their  demons 

To  mark  my  bosom  with  a  myriad  fingers 

That  push  up  grass-blades,  clothe  the  great-armed  oaks, 

Loosen  white  frost-caps  on  high  mountain-tops, 

Heave  ocean  into  billows,  sweep  broad  plains 

With  the  great  besom  of  the  hurricane, 

Or  launch  destruction  with  the  thunderbolts." 

0  king,  of  a  like  subtlety,  my  demons 
Mock  at  dull  sight ;  I  show  you  their  effects  ; 
If  these  be  true,  why  not  believe  the  rest  ? 

KING. 

1  cannot  answer  you. 

Enter    captain    and    BRIAN    surrounded    by   a 
guard. 

Show  me  thy  face. 
BRIAN  stands  motionless. 
Captain,  unhood  this  ill-trained  peregrine. 

BRIAN  throws  back  his  hood,  and  looks  boldly  at 

the  king. 
So  we  have  found  the  face;  and  now  the  voice? 


86  At  the  Court  of  King-  Edwin.      [ACT  in. 

BRIAN. 

The  voice  is  Cymrian,  like  the  face,  and  speaks, 
What  the  face  shows,  a  dauntless  Cymrian  heart, 
Content  to  pay  the  forfeit  of  a  life. 

KING. 
It  is  not  much  to  take,  but  more  to  give. 

BRIAN. 

Not  much  to  die.     The  meanest  soldier  gives 
His  life  in  battle  ;  why  should  I,  a  prince, 
Deem  mine  a  greater  thing?     The  exile,  king, 
Sets  no  great  store  on  life ;  life  is  a  thing 
Of  value,  or  of  none,  as  it  is  stamped 
By  fortune  or  mischance ;  he  holds  it  best 
Who  loves  it  not  too  much,  nor  doth  despise 
The  good  it  brings. 

KING. 

'Tis  pity,  Pellitus, 
With  him  such  wise  philosophy  must  die  ! 

PELLITUS. 

One  end  meets  all :  Wisdom  goes  gravely  to  it, 
While  laughing  Folly  seeks  it  heedlessly ; 
Pale  Sorrow,  in  the  midst  of  weeping,  dies ; 
Anger  calms  not  the  bluster  of  his  rage, 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  87 

Nor  Jealousy  forgets  his  haunting  fiend, 
In  the  last  hour ;  and  he,  the  calm  philosopher, 
Who  speculates  upon  foreshadowed  doom, 
And  sees  its  paths — his  own  among  the  rest — 
All  merging  in  one  common  ending,  death, 
Run  o'er  his  careful  plots  and  maps  of  life, 
While  pondering  of  it,  meets  the  common  fate, 
And  drops,  or  bears  away,  his  cloak  of  thoughts. 
I  know  not  if  'tis  pity ;  'tis  so  common 
That  Pity,  if  she  stand  with  streaming  eyes 
Weeping  mankind,  hath  not  one  drop  for  each. 
Though  groans  and  wailing  sound  the  symphony 
Of  death,  this  is  but  fashion  of  the  world, 
A  loud  lament  for  an  imagined  terror. 

KING. 
Cymrian,  what  folly  brought  thee  to  our  court  ? 

BRIAN. 

The  folly,  king,  to  have  a  heart  to  love 
My  sister  and  my  country. 

KING. 

Rather  the  folly 

To  plunge  in  perils  as  the  flitter-mouse 
Flaps  into  brightness  of  alluring  flames 


88  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  in. 

That  charm  and  dazzle  his  bewildered  sight. 
Ha !  shall  we  hang  thee  up  upon  our  walls 
As,  on  his  door,  the  ploughman  nails  a  bat 
Caught  flitting  impudently  abroad  by  day  ? 

BRIAN. 
A  noble  trophy  for  a  mighty  king  ! 

KING. 

Captain,  put  this  philosopher  in  chains, 
And  dungeon  him,  lest  he  commit  more  folly. 

Exit  captain  and  guard  with  BRIAN. 

PELLITUS. 

0  king,  give  me  this  young  philosopher; 

1  ask  him  as  a  boon ;  not  for  his  life, 

For  that  I  care  not,  nor  am  moved  by  touch 
Of  plaguing  sympathy ;  but  beg  his  fate 
That  out  of  him,  as  from  his  antique  ring, 
I  may  educe  the  plots,  the  unhatched  schemes, 
O'er  which  no  doubt  his  friends  now  incubate ; 
So  may  I  count  the  brood  before  they  come 
With  ruffling  feathers  and  their  spurs  full-grown 
To  crow,  like  chanticleers,  before  your  gates. 

KING. 
I  care  not,  so  he  trouble  me  no  more. 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  89 

PELLITUS. 
My  lord  will  trust  me  with  his  signet-ring? 

KING,  giving  his  ring  to  PELLITUS. 
Ay,  Pellitus ;  but  bring  not  up  this  thing 
To  vex  our  queen. 

PELLITUS. 

His  silence  shall  be  real. 
Enter  GOLDDIN. 

GOLDDIN. 

Your  majesty,  the  King  of  Mercia  comes 
With  his  attendant  lords  to  greet  his  liege — • 
Now  just  arrived — arrived  to  greet  his  liege. 

KING. 

Ah,  my  good  Pellitus,  the  ring  tells  truth  ! 
Golddin,  who  waits? 

GOLDDIN. 

My  lord,  the  Earl  of  Lincoln, 
Lord  Coifi,  the  queen's  bishop,  doubtless  more. 

KING. 

Bid  them  attend  ;  call  all  our  retinue ; 
We  will  receive  King  Penda. 

Exeunt  PELLITUS  and  GOLDDIN. 


90  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  in. 

Mercia's  king 

Will  chafe  to  lose  his  bride — then  let  him  chafe ; 
The  needs  of  kingcraft  smother  sympathies 
That  else  might  blossom  in  a  marriage  feast. 
Penda  and  Enid — were  our  promise  clear 
Of  Coin",  none  the  less  we  must  hold  off 
These  twain,  whose  union  might  build  up  a  power 
Too  great  for  vassalage.     The  King  of  Mercia 
Holds  his  head  stiffly,  bends  not  with  a  grace 
Before  our  throne  ;  this  arrogance  will  grow 
Greater,  not  less,  unless  we  make  him  less. 
So  must  we  aim  somewhat  to  prune  his  power, 
Not  to  augment  it  with  the  strength  of  Gwynedd. 

Enter  the  king' s  attendants,  EARL  BLECCA,  LORD 
COIFI,  PAULINUS,  and  lords;  then  GOLDDIN, 
ushering  KING  PENDA  and  his  lords. 

PENDA. 
Great  king, 

The  tribute  of  my  Mercia  hath  been  paid 
In  deeds. 

KING. 
And  worthily,  O  valiant  Penda  ! 

PENDA. 
From  its  far  southern  line  of  sea-washed  coast 


SCENE  I.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  91 

I  come  to  give  you  Wessex,  subjugate, 
And  bowing  humbly  to  your  royal  hand  ; 
A  conquest  well  begun  when  on  the  head 
Of  wretched  Cwichhelm,  its  assassin  king, 
Fell  my  keen  axe.     The  lesser  limbs  of  war 
Through  his  domain,  back  to  the  Cornwall  hills, 
Our  Mercian  arms  have  quelled.     Save  Kent  alone, 
All  Saxon  England  bends  beneath  your  sway, 
And  Gwynedd's  kingdom,  with  rich  Anglesey, 
And  wild  Welsh  marches  to  the  banks  of  Wye. 
In  these  last  conquests  of  the  south,  O  king, 
And  all  adown  the  line  of  Cymrian  hills, 
Mercia's  bold  hearts  have  done  untiring  service. 

KING. 

Most  warlike  Penda,  well  we  know  the  worth 
Of  Mercia's  help  and  thy  heroic  deeds ; 
And,  that  we  may  show  plainly  to  the  world 
How  much  we  prize  thee,  we  will  bind  thee  to  us 
By  the  betrothal  of  our  infant  daughter, 
The  Princess  Ethelfled,  in  the  full  hope 
Thou  wilt  embrace  the  faith  of  all  her  kindred, 
Leaving  the  broken  idols  of  the  Norseland 
To  bow  with  us  beneath  the  Christian  cross  : 
So  shall  this  royal  marriage  one  day  bring 
Unto  thy  sovereignty  a  third  of  England. 


92  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  m. 

PENDA. 

So  great  alliance,  king,  I  may  not  have  ; 
My  hand  is  promised,  and  my  faith  must  be 
That  which  my  sires  have  held. 

KING,  pointing  to  PAULINUS. 

Nay,  here  is  one 
Will  teach  thee  better  faith. 

PAULINUS. 

The  God  of  Love 

Is  greater  than  your  god  of  battles  ;  this,  his  cross, 
A  braver  emblem  than  the  hammer  of  Thor ; 
The  courage  that  can  suffer,  grander  far 
Than  the  rough  daring  of  invulnerable  gods. 

PENDA. 

Great  king,  I  do  not  wish  a  better  faith 
Than  my  brave  grandsire's,  Crida's,  who  drew  up 
His  stranded  galleys  on  this  island  shore, 
And  from  the  din  of  Ocean's  tumbling  waves 
Rushed  amid  Cymrian  arrows  to  carve  out 
A  throne  in  Cymry.     Ay,  the  gods,  that  gave 
That  throne  to  Crida,  yet  are  strong  enough 
To  help  his  grandson  keep  it.     Let  me  say, 
King  of  Norse  peoples,  that  my  Mercians  frown 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  93 

And  shake  the  head  when  flying  rumor  tells 

Of  a  pale  god  set  up  above  our  Odin, 

And  his  death-cross  over  our  ancient  altars ; 

That  the  priests  find  amid  the  smoking  entrails 

Strange  prodigies,  and  mutter  gloomily 

With  hoarse,  thick  voices,  "Lo,  there  comes  disaster  !" 

Unto  your  arm  hath  Odin  lent  his  might ; 

The  prize  is  won  :  will  you  forget  your  helper  ? 

KING. 

We  may  not  brook  thy  barbarous  people's  threats ; 
The  yEsir  gods  are  tottering  on  their  thrones, 
And  soon  must  fall.     To  their  old  home  in  Norseland 
Let  them  return,  and  build  again  Valhallas 
Upon  their  Baltic  shores.     Here  will  I  raise 
A  palace  unto  Peace,  and  sheath  the  sword 
To  all  but  those  who  will  not  worship  Peace ; 
And  war  shall  end.     Our  council  sits  to-morrow 
Upon  the  question  of  a  change  of  faith ; 
If  thou  wilt  speak,  King  Penda,  in  the  cause, 
We  promise  thee  a  full  and  patient  hearing. 

PENDA. 

I  come  not  here  to  wrangle  with  your  talkers ; 
You  have  enough  to  battle  in  such  cause — 
Those  whose  best  use  is  in  their  use  of  words ; 


94  At  the  Court  of  King  Ed^cvin.      [ACT  in. 

My  strength  lies  in  my  axe,  not  in  my  tongue ; 
But  I  will  hear  your  council,  what  they  say. 

BLECCA. 

Doth  great  King  Penda  offer  royal  compliment 
To  the  poor  Lord  of  Lincoln? 

PENDA. 

Nay,  gay  lord ; 

We  know  your  sword  as  keen  as  is  your  tongue, 
Your  voice  in  battle  joyous  as  minstrelsy. 

PAULINUS. 

In  the  best  fight  man  wages, — when  his  soul 
Battles  with  Sin's  fierce  demons, — words  have  weight 
Greater  than  your  bright  swords.     To  hack  and  hew 
The  limbs  of  men,  is  not  the  largest  purpose 
That  men  can  serve. 

PENDA. 

The  goodly  bishop  calls  me 

From  thoughts  of  war.     While  in  the  south  I  fought 
To  make  its  conquest  good,  your  arms  in  Gwynedd 
Achieved  success ;  in  conquered  Worcester 
The  Princess  Enid  fell  into  your  hands. 
King,  1  would  ransom  her ;  she  is  betrothed 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  95 

To  me ;  my  kingly  promise  pledged  to  her 
Hath  made  me  seem  to  slight  your  royal  favor 
And  great  alliance.     If  my  wars  have  been 
Worth  any  recompense,  I  ask  but  this : 
The  right  by  ransom  to  redeem  my  princess. 

KING. 

King  Penda,  Gwynedd's  princess  fell  to  us, 
The  spoil  of  war ;  we  knew  not  thy  betrothal ; 
But  have  bestowed  her  on  our  servant,  Coifi, 
Whom  we  will  place  with  her  on  Gwynedd's  throne. 
Our  royal  word  is  pledged.     If  the  Lord  Coifi 
Will  take  thy  ransom,  thou  mayst  ransom  her ; 
But  we  may  not. 

PENDA. 

What  should  a  priest  of  Odin 
With  princess  ?  or  with  throne  ? 

KING. 

A  priest  no  more  : 
He  hath  abandoned  his  idolatry  ; 
Hath  cast  off  priesthood  for  a  laity ; 
And  we,  his  king,  give  him  a  throne  and  princess. 

PENDA. 

'Tis  little  honor  now  to  be  a  king, 
If  priests  wear  crowns. 


g6  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  in. 

COIFI. 

And  wherefore  not  a  priest  ? 
Your  famed  descent  from  Odin  loseth  rank 
As  Odin,  his;  thus  you  go  down,  priests  up. 

PENDA. 
A  brainless  fool ! 

KING. 

Ha  !  will  ye  quarrel,  lords, 
Before  our  throne  ? 

PENDA. 

I  quarrel  not,  O  king, 

With  this  vain  fool  that  wags  his  tongue  at  me — 
King  Crida's  grandson  bearded  by  a  priest ! — 
King,  I  have  done  you  service,  and  for  payment 
You  give  me  scorns ;  are  these  the  meed  of  service  ? 
To-morrow  will  I  speak  of  this  again, 
If  I  can  rule  my  tongue  to  measured  tones, 
For  now  my  heart's  too  hot  to  coin  cold  words, 
And  time  must  cool  it. 

KING. 

Penda,  though  thy  speech 
Lack  something  of  respect,  we  pardon  it 
For  that  hot  temper  urges  reckless  words, 
And  that  we  value  worthily  thy  service. 
To-morrow  shall  thy  question  have  due  audience. 


SCENE  ii.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  97 

Meantime,  accept  our  hospitality: 
Our  queen  would  thank  thee  for  heroic  deeds 
That  fame  hath  heralded  out  of  the  south, 
Noising  thy  glory  ;  wilt  thou  come  to  her  ? 

Ourself  will  bring  thee. 

Exeunt. 


SCENE    II.— A    CHAMBER    IN   THE    QUEEN'S 
APARTMENTS. 

ENID. 

"  Pain,  a  reality  ;  and  bliss,  a  myth." 
Are  his  words  true  ? — Too  true  !  too  true  with  me  ! 
How  this  dull  gloom  settles  about  my  heart ! 
I'll  sing  away  its  dull  despondency 
As  the  poor  cageling  sings  : 

Singing. 

An  ethereal  spirit  of  the  mountains 

Loved  passionately  a  maid, 

But  pitiful  sorrowing  laid 

Full  many  a  lingering  trace 

And  cloud  on  his  beautiful  face, 

For  his  shape  was  invisible  to  the  maiden. 

7 


98  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      PACT  in. 

Though  he  hovered  caressingly  o'er  her, 

And  whispered  of  love  with  fond  word, 
Her  ear  all-unheedingly  heard 
No  voice  as  with  gay  heart  she  sang 
Till  evening's  soft  zephyr-airs  rang 

With  her  carols  of  youthful  rejoicing. 

Then  he  cried  to  the  woodland  and  mountains, 

"  Ala's  and  alas,  she  heeds  not ! 

How  strangely  unhappy  my  lot, 

So  near  her,  and  yet  far  apart 

In  distance  of  heart  from  her  heart, 
And  my  tenderness  never  made  known  to  her !" 

"  Mother  Nature,  why  was  I  made  loving, 

And  not  of  a  visible  form  ? — 

To  feel  all  love's  passionate  storm, 

And  die  for  a  beauty  I  see, 

Yet,  living  or  dying,  to  be 
But  a  viewless  and  voiceless  desiring !" 

Ah,  why  do  I  remember  such  a  song 
Of  loneliness,  when  I  should  sing  gay  notes 
To  drive  away  the  sadness  of  my  heart  ? 
Enter  a  lady. 

LADY. 
The  queen  will  not  require  your  presence 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  99 

At  evening  audience ;  but  she  bids  me  say, 
She  will  desire  you  sing  to  her  at  later  hour. 

ENID. 

I  note  a  bustle  in  the  anterooms  ; 
Is  there  a  ceremony  ? 

LADY. 

Ay,  an  audience : 

The  queen  receives  King  Penda  and  his  lords, 
Our  king  and  lords  likewise. 

ENID. 

I  thank  the  queen. 

Exit  lady. 

They  bar  me  from  his  sight  while  ceremony 
Hath  due  observance.     So  the  world  goes  on  : 
Formalities  must  pass,  though  hearts  are  torn 
And  lives  are  spent.     Here  is  sharp  agony, 
And  by  its  side  the  courtly  bow  and  smile 
And  empty  nothings,  idle  ceremony, — 
To  kiss  the  queen's  hand  while  they  make  of  mine 
A  thing  to  purchase  converts  to  their  faith  ! 
Why  should  King  Penda  dally  with  court  follies? 
While  he  procrastinates,  quick  fate  comes  on, 
And  gives  me  up  to  Pellitus,  the  priest, 
Or  death.     Why  asks  he  not  to  see  his  bride  ? 


ioo  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  in. 

Is  he,  too,  purchased  by  this  gilded  court 
That  smiles,  and  buys?     It  were  an  act  of  manhood 
To  tell  them  to  their  courtly,  smiling  faces, 
He  will  have  nothing  at  their  hands  but  me ; 
They  would  not  dare  deny  him ; — but  perhaps 
Gay  smiles  of  court  beguile  his  thoughts  of  Enid, 
A  captive ;  and  her  country  conquered,  spoiled, 
He  seeks  a  richer  bride  ; — alas  !  no  hope  ! 
Why  should  I  strive  with  fate?  ah  !  why  not  yield 
To  either  chance,  and  smile  as  the  world  smiles, 
And  see  in  life  but  hollow  ceremony? — 
N  o  my  free,  Cymrian  blood  disdains  to  flow 
Along  the  sluggish  lines  of  their  court-usage : 
I'll  save  my  brother  ;  then  come  Death  between 
The  purchase  and  the  payment — 
Enter  RHYN. 

A  Cymrian  face  ! — 

Who  art  thou  that,  with  unknown  features, 
Bring'st  back  remembrance  of  my  far-off  home? 

RHYN. 
I'm  Rhyn,  the  slave  of  Pellitus. 

ENID. 

Alas, 
A  Cymrian  and  a  slave  !     My  native  hills, 


SCENE  ii.]  At  tlie  Court  of  King  Edwin.  101 

Do  you  breed  slaves  to  serve  your  Saxon  lords? — 
What  wouldst  thou,  slave  ? 

RHYN. 

My  master,  Pellitus, 

Bids  you  come  to  him  when  the  night's  dark  hours 
Hush  all  in  sleep ;  or,  ere  the  light  of  morn, 
Your  brother,  Brian,  dies. 

ENID. 

Where  is  my  brother? 

RHYN. 

Deep  in  a  dungeon,  shackled  fast  with  chains; 
And  Pellitus,  my  master,  wears  his  master's  ring, 
And  holds  your  brother's  fate. 

ENID. 

O  !  tell  me,  slave  : 
Is  there  no  way  to  save  my  brother's  life? 

RHYN. 

Ay,  if  you  please  my  master. 

ENID. 

Say  : — I  will ; 
And  come  for  me  at  midnight. 


IO2  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  in. 

RHYN. 

Lady,  ay. 
RHYN  withdraws,  stepping  behind  a  curtain, 

ENID. 

A  few  hours  more  of  rosy  light  will  shine 
On  wretched  Enid;  then  must  come  the  night 
Whose  darkness  will  o'erwhelm  her.    While  they  laugh 
In  the  queen's  presence,  king,  and  lords,  and — Penda; 
Or  the  Lord  Lincoln  sings,  and  sweeps  the  harp-strings, 
And  Ceremony  sits  the  queen  of  all ; 
Here  do  I  watch  the  fast-declining  day, 
Waiting  for  Night  to  wrap  me  in  her  folds, 
And  bear  me  off,  sad,  lost,  companionless, 
To  ghastly  halls  of  death  ;  where,  clothed  anew 
In  different  form, — perchance  uncouth  or  hideous, 
Some  creature  that  I  now  would  shudder  at, — 
My  spirit  will  inhabit  a  new  form, 
And  live  unconscious  of  this  thing  I  am, 
And  Enid  be  forgot.     Will  he  laugh  then, 
When  they  shall  hurry  o'er  my  funeral  rites  ? 
Or  will  he  drop  one  tear  upon  my  grave  ? 
Or  will  he  think  of  the  more  happy  bride 
They  promise  him  ?  alas  !  I  may  not  know. — 
What  if  my  hand  should  falter  at  the  last  ? 

Takes  a  dagger  from  the  folds  of  her  dress. 


SCENE  ii.]       At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin,          103 

No ;  rather  a  thousand  times  this  shining  blade 
Than  Pellitus  !— 

RHYN  advances, 

RHYN. 

i 
Ho,  princess  !  will  you  slay 

My  master  ? 

ENID. 
Slave,  begone  !  it  is  not  midnight. 

RHYN. 
No ;  I  must  speak  : — a  woman,  dare  you  die? 

ENID. 

Ay,  slave  ;  but,  being  a  slave,  thou  knowest  not 
What  such  words  mean. — Heed  not  this  idle  trifling; 
'  Tis  fancy's  fitful  light  that  dances  here. 
Points  to  her  head, 

RHYN. 

Fancy? — crazed  head? — The  flashing  of  her  eye 
Is  not  the  fire  of  weak  or  crazy  wits. 
Lady,  I  was  a  servant  of  your  house, — 
Ay,  long  ago,  when  you. were  but  a  child, — 
And  did  a  thing,  for  which  they  drove  me  forth, 
And  I  became  a  slave.     Though  years  have  passed, 


IO4  At  the  Court  of  King  Ed^v^n.     [ACT  in. 

I  feel  the  old  love  tugging  at  my  heart ; 

And  if  a  thing  so  helpless  as  a  slave 

Can  help  you  now,  it  may  atone  the  fault 

That  banished  me  of  old.     I  know  not  well 

What  I  can  do,  but  I  will  study  it ; 

And  chance  may  help  a  slave  to  serve  a  princess. 

ENID. 
Forgive  my  unkind  harshness,  generous  slave. 

RHYN. 

Fair  princess,  may  I  kiss  your  royal  hand  ? 
'Twill  help  me  to  a  thought. 

RHYN  kisses  ENID'S  hand,  then  exit. 

ENID. 

Why  doth  a  hope  light  up  my  desolate  heart 
With  the  slave's  words?     It  is,  his  sympathy 
Leaves  me  not  all  alone.     What  was  the  tale 
My  old  nurse  told? — how  once  a  little  mouse 
Gnawed  at  the  strings  that  held  a  netted  lion, 
And  set  him  free.     Perhaps  this  is  my  mouse.       Exit. 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  105 


ACT  IV. 

SCENE  I.— THE  KITCHEN.     EVENING. 

DAGBERT  and  RHYN  sitting  at  a  table  on  which  stands 
a  great  beer-jug. 

DAGBERT. 

We  must  consider  it  well,  Rhyn  ;  for  the  conscience 
be  a  tender  thing,  and  easily  scratched.  I  say  often  to 
myself,  "  Dagbert,  take  care  of  thy  conscience;  thou 
be'st  but  a  jailer,  it  is  true ;  yet  a  jailer's  conscience 
be  a  thing  to  be  cared  for."  If  it  hurts  him,  he  turns 
as  uneasily  in  his  straw,  look  you  !  as  the  king  in  his 
golden  bed  ;  for  this  same  conscience  careth  not  what 
bed  he  sleeps  in. 

RHYN. 

You  speak  shrewdly,  Master  Dagbert ;  and,  because 
you  are  known  to  have  a  wise  head 

DAGBERT. 

Ay,  ay,  Rhyn  ;  I  be  one  that  thinketn  of  many 
things.  [Takes  up  the  jug  and  looks  into  /'/.]  This 


io6  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  iv. 

talking  be  dry  work,  and  the  jug  empty.     I  fear  Master 
Cook  will  not  fill  it  again. 

RHYN. 

I  have  here  a  broken  penny  which  my  master  gave  me 
long  ago ;  I  cannot  use  it  better  than  for  my  conscience. 

DAGBERT. 

No,  by  Neccus  !  that  be  well  said,  Rhyn — \_Taking 
the  money. ~\  Ay,  a  half-penny. 

RHYN. 

I  dare  not  go  to  Master  Cook,  for  I  broke  a  jug 
sevennight  ago,  and  he  still  looks  black  at  me ;  but 
he  will  look  white  at  you,  Master  Dagbert,  when  he 
sees  the  silver. 

DAGBERT. 

The  jug  shall  be  filled,  and  thy  conscience  set  right, 
if  there  be  any  wit  here.  {Painting  to  his  head.  DAG- 
BERT  takes  the  jug,  and  goes  out.~\ 

RHYN. 

Another  jug  of  beer  will  drown  what  wit 
Yet  flickers,  like  a  storm -wet,  smoking  torch, 
In  his  dazed  head,  and  cast  him  in  such  stupor 
He  will  not  wake  though  Faul,  his  Saxon  demon, 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  107 

Shout  in  his  ear ;  then  will  I  have  his  keys, 
And  be  Prince  Brian's  jailer.     Let  me  think — 
She  said  :  I,  being  a  slave,  know  not  what  thing 
It  is,  to  dare  to  die ; — well !  do  I  dare? 
I  know  not ;  but  I  feel  a  something  here 
That  drives  me  on ;  it  may  be  it  will  push 
So  far  as  dying.     Dare  I  plot  to  thwart 
My  demon  master  ?  boldly  match  my  little 
Against  his  much  ?     To  wind  about  his  plans, 
And  cross  their  cunning,  I  should  be  more  cunning 
Than  he  whose  quick  eye,  flashing  in  my  face, 
Will  catch  the  coward  thought  I  try  to  hide, 
And  flout  it  to  my  ear.     In  spite  of  him, 
His  magic,  demons,  spells,  and  sorcery, 
I'll  set  my  stupid  brains  against  them  all; 
And  if  I  fail — ah  !  it  perhaps  may  be 
I  dare  to  die,  and  know  not  that  I  dare. 
Here  comes  the  jailer,  drunker  than  before. 

Enter  DAGBERT,  with  the  jug  of  beer,  and  singing. 

DAGBERT. 

The  king  may  sit  in  golden  state 

A  golden  crown  to  wear, 
But  what  care  I  ?     I  am  his  mate ! — 
I  have  no  crown  for  my  rough  pate ; 

But  this  shall  lift  me  there, 


loS  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  iv. 

Beside  the  king — above  the  king — • 
This  pot  of  beer  that  now  I  sing. 

Rhyn,  thou  serving-man  of  Ochus  Bochus,  don't  think 
because  I  sing,  I  be  drunk — no  ;  I  sing  for  jollity — 
ha-ha !  [Puts  the  jug  on  the  table,  and  sits.~\  Now 
listen :  if  what  old  Ochus  Bochus  doeth  be  sinful, 
and  he  be  in  danger  of  roasting  for  it,  as  our  lady's 
bishop  sayeth,  then  thou,  being  his  helper,  shall  be  in 
danger  of  roasting  too;  this  be  reason — plain  reason, 
look  you,  But  to  go  deeper  into  it:  \Takes  a  long 
drink  from  the  jug.']  Ochus  Bochus,  being  a  wizard, 
may  by  dry-craft  get  himself  out  of  the  fire ;  but  will 
he  pull  out  his  helper? — will  he  pull  out  his  helper? 
[D rinks. ~]  That  be  the  thing  to  be  thought  of.  See 
here  :  Ochus  Bochus  [Drinks'] — Ochus  Bochus — it  be 
all  here  [Pointing  to  his  head~\,  but  twists  round  and 
round  so,  by  old  Neccus !  I  ben't  able  to  pull  it  out 

straight. 

RHYN. 

'Tis  dry  work,  pulling  against  a  wizard. 
— Master  Dagbert,  drink  up  the  beer. 

[DAGBERT  drinks,  then  staggers  to  his  feet.  ~\ 

DAGBERT 
I  have  it   now  ;    listen  ! — Ochus  Bochus — Ochus — 

ha-ha !  ha-ha ! 

[He  sings. .] 


SCENE  i.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  109 

Old  Neccus,  from  thy  cave 
And  thirsty  salt-sea  wave, 
Come  up !  come  up !  come  up ! 
Old  merman,  here's  to  thee ! 
Come,  tip  the  jug  with  me ; — 
Come  up ! — come — up ! — come — up ! 

[DAGBERT  staggers  against  the  table  :  tries  to 
drink;  oversets  the  jug,  and  tumbles  on  the 
floor.  RHYN  stoops  over  him,  ami  searches  in 
his  leathern  sack  for  his  keys,  but  fails  to  find 
them.~\ 

RHYN. 

I  cannot  find  the  keys ;  his  sack  is  empty — 

Misfortune  !  so  to  lose  it,  when  I  thought 

This  chance  was  safely  won! — what   now? — how? — 

how? 

Have  they,  my  master's  cunning  demons,  come, 
Sliding  unseen  their  thin  shapes  under  shadows, 
And  stolen  away  the  thing  I  would  have  stolen, 
Snatched  up  the  prize,  and  borne  it  to  their  master? 
No  !  no  !  it  cannot  be.     Ho  !  drunkard,  wake  ! 

Shaking  DAGBERT. 
Wake  !  wake  ! 

DAGBERT  raises  himself  on  his  elbow. 

Your  keys,  good  Master  Dagbert, — keys ! 


no  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  iv. 

DAGBERT. 
Old  Ochus — Bo-chus — come — up  ! — 

RHYN. 

Where  are  your  keys  ? — your  keys  ! 

[DAGBERT  falls  back,  insensible.     RHYN  shakes 

him  again  and  again,  without  result. ~\ 
He  will  not  rouse.     I  thought  to  steal  his  keys, 
Lead  Enid  to  the  dungeon,  free  her  brother, 
And,  stealing  from  the  palace,  fly  with  them 
Beyond  this  nest  of  dangers ;  but  my  plan — 
A  good  one  if  I  had  this  drunkard's  keys — 
Is  spoiled  or  e'er  begun.     What  is  there  else  ? 
O  that  my  head  had  but  a  little  wit 
To  make  new  plots  ! — one  chance,  and  that  one  lost 
Without  my  master's  stir  !     I  know  no  other. 
Now  do  I  think  I  am  not  all  a  slave ; 
For,  while  I  find  no  way  to  win  by  craft, 
My  heart  grows  big ;  I  feel  my  bosom  heave, 
Thinking  what  I  must  do  :  I  am  resolved 
To  strike  a  blow  for  her,  though  it  must  be 
To  rush,  like  famished  wolf  with  open  mouth, 
On  death.     But  wait ;  some  chance  may  help  me  yet ; 
If  not,  what  better  end  for  Rhyn,  the  slave, 
Than  dying  at  a  beautiful  princess'  feet  ?  Exit. 


SCENE  ii.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edzvin.  ill 

SCENE   II.— THE   DUNGEON.     MIDNIGHT. 
BRIAN  chained. 

BRIAN. 

It  cannot  be  his  gods  that  heap  his  fortunes 
High  as  the  hill-tops, — yea,  they  grow  so  huge 
This  island  gives  its  greatness  but  to  him, 
All  other  kings  belittled, — for  his  gods, 
And  those  of  all  his  ancestry  he  scorns, 
Seeking  to  cast  them  from  their  ancient  thrones, 
On  which  to  set  a  cross.     'Tis  Pellitus, 
By  stars  and  magic,  lifts  the  King  of  Deira 
Thus  over  all.     Alas,  my  dear-loved  land  ! 
I  ventured  all  to  cross  a  demon's  path, 
Against  his  spells  opposed  a  zealous  heart, 
And  so  have  lost.     Nor  for  myself  I  groan  ; 
But  much  for  thee,  and  something  for  my  sister, 
Who,  proud  but  gentle,  hating  slavery 
As  water,  fire,  must  be  the  gilded  slave 
Of  this  king's  policy — no,  not  a  slave; 
Not  all  of  .England's  power  can  break  her  spirit 
Into  a  slave's  obedience  ;  it  will  flash 
Out  of  her  free  heart  as  the  dark  cloud  gleams 


112  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  iv. 

With  sudden  fire,  and  scorch  the  ceremony 
Would  chain  her  to  a  bondage  worse  than  this. 

Raises  his  chains. 

Lost  Enid  !  their  vile  schemes  will  ring  thee  round 
Until  escape  is  shut,  and  death  alone 
Can  give  a  refuge.     A  soft  woman's  heart, 
That  quails  at  desperate  act,  is  not  the  lodging 
For  a  free  soul  in  these  dark  days  of  peril ; 
It  should  be  set  in  some  strong  citadel, 
Apart  from  danger,  if  the  arm  to  strike, 
The  eye  to  look  on  perils,  undismayed, 
Are  given  her  not.     A  man  may  laugh  and  die ; 
But  death  hath  greater  terrors  to  a  woman, 
Frighting  her  timid  breast.     Oh,  fie  upon  it ! 
Where  is  the  gracious  power  that  governs  life, 
And  loosens  out  the  tangled  skein  of  chance? 
Is  ill,  not  good,  the  thought  that  works  the  scheme  ? 
Can  it  be  so :  that  man  is  ruled  by  demons 
With  naught  to  check  them?  then,  indeed,  his  life 
Is  a  poor  thing,  too  worthless  for  regrets ; 
And  all  the  greater  hopes,  that  heave  his  bosom, 
Are  misplaced  here ;  and  I  may  hail  the  hour 
Of  death  that  sends  me  down  the  chain  of  being, 
Haply  to  wear  the  various  garbs  of  life, 
And  glide  from  shape  to  shape,  nor  ever  find 
One  of  less  worth  than  this !     If  life  in  each 


SCENE  IL]    At  tfie  Court  of  King  Edwin.  113 

Be  overruled  by  evil,  let  me  haste 

To  reach  the  end,  if  end  there  be — a  scheme 

Unworthy  all  the  intricate  adjustments 

With  which  it  moves  before  our  dazzled  eyes — 

A  tedious  ladder,  up  or  down  whose  steps 

Demons  may  chase  my  spirit.     Let  me  sleep, 

And  dream  perhaps  of  greater  things  than  life. 

Pshaw  !  thoughts  of  Enid  make  this  dungeon-floor 

A  restless  couch.     Nay,  but  indeed  I'll  sleep. 

Enter  RHYN,  carrying  a  torch,  then  ENID.  RHVN 
fixes  the  torch  in  a  sconce  on  the  wall,  and 
exit. 

ENID. 

Dear  Brian,  I  could  weep  upon  thy  chains 
Till  the  hard  iron,  melting  with  soft  pity, 
Dissolved  in  my  hot  tears. 

BRIAN. 

Ah,  tearful  Enid  ! 

The  moisture  of  a  dungeon  eats  these  chains 
But  tardily ;  thy  tears  of  tender  loving, 
Though  full  of  alchemy  for  human  hearts, 
Will  fall  effectless  on  my  stubborn  gyves. 

ENID. 

If  they  have  alchemy  for  jailers'  hearts, 

8 


1 14  .At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  iv. 

Their  floods  shall  pour  like  our  own  mountain  streams 
Fed  by  great  storms. 

BRIAN. 

Nay,  tears  avail  not,  Enid. 
I  hoped  to  take  thee  out  of  Danger's  clutch, 
And  risked  a  life  of  little  worth  to  me, — 
Thou  in  captivity,  and  Gwynedd  conquered, — 
In  the  rash  chance  with  glad  enthusiasm. 
Now,  when  that  chance  hath  failed,  my  chiefest  sorrow 
Is  that  I  cannot  save  thee  from  the  toil 
In  which,  poor  bird,  thy  fluttering  wings  are  caught. 

ENID. 

It  matters  less,  my  brother,  what  disaster 
May  hap  to  me,  a  useless,  fluttering  bird, 
Fit  only  for  a  song  of  joy  or  sorrow, 
Than  thus  to  bring  in  peril  thy  brave  life, 
Rich  in  the  hope  of  help  to  our  dear  country. 

BRIAN. 

I  thought  to  help  our  Gwynedd,  and  help  thee, 
My  sister ;  but  all  fall  alike  the  prey 
Of  Pellitus.      O  that  this  arm  of  mine 
Were  long  enough  to  strike  him  from  these  chains ! 
So  would  I  deem  I  won  in  the  exchange, 
My  life  for  his. 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  115 

ENID. 

Thy  life  hath  larger  worth. 
Brian,  I  come  to  give  it  thee  again  ; 
For  thou  art  dead  in  chains,  and  freedom,  life. 
Although  my  tears  may  not  dissolve  these  irons, 
Yet  can  I  free  thee;  not  indeed  with  weeping 
Or  sorrow,  but  with  smiles.     Thy  life  is  dear 
To  Gwynedd;  and  I,  ev'rr  I,  a  snared  and  trembling 

bird, 

As  thou  hast  said,  dear  Brian,  have  the  power 
To  give  my  Gwynedd  a  great  boon,  thy  life — 
Prince  Brian's  life— his  who  will  gather  up 
The  fortunes  of  his  land,  drive  forth  the  spoiler, 
And  wear,  perchance,  our  ancient  Cymrian  crown. 
Then  Enid,  though  forgot  by  all  but  thee, 
My  brother,  may,  in  thy  dear  remembrance  held, 
Share  in  thy  glory ;  for  she  breaks  for  thee 
These  dungeon  chains  that  else,  beneath  their  weight, 
Had  crushed  down  hope  and  life. 

BRIAN. 

Thou  ravest,  sister ; 

Sorrow  hath  crazed  thee,  falling  on  thy  spirit 
As  some  strange  phantom  comes  amid  our  dreams 
To  push  aside  all  customary  thought 
With  the  improbable. 


1 1 6  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  iv. 

ENID. 

Nay : — Pellitus 

Is  of  my  suitors ;  and,  at  my  command, 
Must  touch  these  cruel  chains  with  magic  wand ; 
His  alchemy,  more  potent  than  my  tears, 
Will  set  thee  free.      Ah !    smooth   thy   brow,    whose 

frowning 

Contends  with  wonder  working  on  thy  face — 
Thou  shall  not  owe  him  aught ;  'tis  I  that  free  thee. 

BRIAN. 

I  am  amazed,  and  marvel  not  that  wonder 
Traces  its  outward  figures,  for  within 
It  fills  my  mind  with  frightful,  grotesque  shapes ; 
This  Pellitus  stood  by  with  sneering  lip 
When  the  king  questioned  me,  and,  by  the  looks 
Which  flashed  between,  discovered  to  my  thought, 
Who  had  denounced  me. 

ENID. 

Ay,  'twas  doubtless  he; 

He  lurked,  a  spy,  behind  the  drooping  curtain  ; 
Watched  us,  concealed  ;  heard  every  word  we  spake, 
And  learned  the  purpose  of  thy  hapless  visit. 
Not  love  of  thee,  but  hope  of  better  favor 
With  me,  whose  better  favor  he  would  have, 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  117 

Shall  work  the  help  I  bid ;  but  count  no  chance 
Upon  his  mercy ;  he  is  merciless, 
Strong  in  his  cunning,  wise  as  pitiless. 

BRIAN. 

Sister,  beware  !  seek  not  to  match  this  fiend 
In  cunning ;  as  the  serpent  charms  the  bird 
Till,  with  enchantment  drugged,  it,  powerless,  falls 
In  the  wide  jaws  that  gape  for  it ;  so  he 
Will  charm  thee  helpless. 

ENID,  aside. 

Oh,  protect  me,  Macha, 
Mother  of  gods,  from  this  most  loathsome  charmer ! 

To  BRIAN. 

Nay,  trust  me,  Brian,  woman's  wit  will  match 
His  wisest  cunning,  though  with  magic  helped, 
And  spells  of  sorcery,  the  shine  of  stars, 
And  all  the  glamour  of  a  conjurer. 

BRIAN. 

Nay,  Enid,  think  not  thus  to  play  the  masker, 
Hiding  thy  thought  beneath  unmeaning  words. 

ENID. 

Incredulous  !     You  will  believe  my  power 
When  I  strike  off  this  weight  of  heavy  chains. 


1 1 8  At  the  Court  of  King  Edivin.      [ACT  iv. 

BRIAN. 

Enid,  thy  quivering  lips  mock  such  wild  speech ; 
Beneath  the  flicker  of  this  smoky  torchlight 
I  see  the  painful  lines  of  high  resolve 
Stamped  in  thy  face ;  pray  tell  me  what  they  mean. 

ENID,  aside. 

I  dare  not  tell  him ;  and  I  wear  my  mask 
So  illy  that  he  sees  my  pallid  face  beneath. 

To  BRIAN. 

What  can  I  tell  thee?  'tis  a  woman's  plot : 
This  wise  magician — but  not  wise  in  this — 
Is  smitten  with  my  face  ;  a  woman's  plot — 
He  seeks  my  favor,  and  I  use  his  help, 
Buying"  with  idle  promise  thy  dear  life. 

BRIAN. 
What  dost  thou  promise  him  ? 

ENID. 

A  little  thing, 
A  woman's  favor. 

BRIAN. 

It  is  a  thing  too  great — 
By  far  too  great ;  for  its  entanglement 
Will  close  about  thee  as  the  fowler's  net 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  119 

Catches  the  bird  that  hath  a  pair  of  wings 
To  fly  above  the  snare,  but  cannot  use  them. 

ENID. 

Brother,  farewell ;  I  must  not  stay  to  hear, 
And  be  affrighted  from  wise  purposes. 
When  I  shall  send  the  keys  to  loose  thy  chains, 
Fly  from  the  precincts  of  this  hateful  palace, 
And  use  the  life,  that  I  have  given  to  thee, 
For  our  dear  land.     I  see  a  certain  way 
To  slip  between  the  meshes  of  the  net ; 
But  think  of  me  sometimes.     Now  kiss  me,  brother. 

BRIAN,  embracing  ENID. 
So  now  I  have  thee,  sister,  in  my  arms, 
Thou  shalt  not  go  till  thou  hast  told  me  all  : 
What  is  this  mystery  ?  what,  the  wise  plans 
With  which  thou  think'st  to  baffle  Pellitus, 
A  giant  in  the  cunning  use  of  craft  ? 

ENID. 

Nay,  kiss  me,  brother ; — if  I  hoped  to  win 
By  the  straight  line  of  an  unchanging  plan, 
Thy  wisdom  should  o'erlook  the  careful  scheme;^ 
But  when  a  woman  plots,  her  figures  shift 
Faster  than  fashion  of  dissolving  clouds, 


I2O  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  iv. 

And  every  moment  brings  new  policies. 

So  is  she  strong,  because  no  reach  of  brain 

Can  tell  her  changes.     Thou  art  helpless,  chained  ; 

I  dare  not  trust  thy  wit ;  kiss  me,  dear  brother, 

And  let  me  go. 

BRIAN. 

Thy  heart  beats  hard,  my  sister, 
Like  the  poor  fawn's  who  sees  the  bounding  dogs, 
And  hears  the  cry  of  all  the  noisy  pack 
Draw  near — 

ENID. 

O  Brian  ! 
ENID  bursts  into  tears,  and  sobs  convulsively. 

BRIAN. 

Weep,  poor  child  ;  if  tears 
Can  bring  thee  comfort,  on  their  swelling  flood 
Let  sorrow  float  out  of  thy  sad,  bruised  heart — 
Yea,  weep  thy  fill ;  and  when  hot  tears  are  done, 
Tell  me  the  thing  thou  vainly  seek'st  to  hide. 

ENID. 

O  brother,  how  unloving  !  know'st  thou  not, 
To  lose  thee  from  my  sight,  to  be  alone 
With  strangers,  meet  strange  looks,  and  hear  strange 
voices, 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  121 

Are  cause  for  sadness?  and  that  woman's  tears 
Gush  easily  from  loving  eyes  at  partings  ? 

BRIAN. 

Ah,  Enid  !  I  had  not  believed  this  thing 
Without  such  plain  and  manifest  disclosings 
As  speak  to  me  from  ill-dissembling  features 
And  voice  unschooled  to  feign  the  thing  that  is  not : 
That  thou  couldst  so  have  paltered  with  my  love, 
Hiding  thy  purpose  under  subtle  seemings. 
Did  I  not  know  thy  crystal  purity 
Beyond  the  thought  of  question,  I  might  deem 
Th'  intent  dishonest,  over  which  thou  hold'st, 
With  so  unskilful  hand,  a  doubtful  mask. 
Enter  RHYN. 


RHVN. 
My  master ! 


Exit  RHYN. 


BRIAN. 

Enid,  alas  !  I  fear  thou  art 
Upon  the  brink  of  a  great  precipice 
So  high,  I  dare  not  look  to  its  perilous  foot ; 
The  while,  perforce,  I  wear  these  pitiless  chains, 
And  hug  this  wall.     I  see  impending  fate 


122  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.       [ACT  iv. 

Above  thy  head,  but  cannot  reach  my  hand 
To  stay  it.     As  the  spirit  of  man,  set  free 
By  death,  may  hover  over  those  dear  ones 
He  fondly  loves,  but  cannot  help,  so  I 
Look  on  the  face  of  dire  calamity 
Approaching  thee,  without  the  power  to  shield  ; 
And  see  :   it  comes — 

Enter  PELLITUS. 

PELLITUS. 

Fair  princess,  give  me  pardon 
If  I  must  rudely  cut  the  tender  endings 
Of  fond  farewells.     I  would  not  bid  you  part 
Too  hastily;  but  in  the  night's  deep  sleep, 
As  in  the  noisy  day,  swift  hours  move  on  ; 
And  soon  loud-crowing  cocks  and  baying  dogs 
Will  waken  early  stirrers.     If  to-night 
We  break  these  chains,  and  set  a  captive  free, 
He  soon  must  be  astir,  ere  curious  Day 
Pulls  off  the  cloak  of  much-concealing  Night, 
Beyond  the  outlook  of  this  busy  York. 

ENID. 
It  needs  but  one  last  word,  and  we  will  part. 

BRIAN. 
Why  must  we  part?     If  you  will  render  service, 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  123 

Do  it  not  piecemeal.     Pellitus,  I  thought 
No  power  could  stay  the  hatred  of  my  heart 
And  peril  of  my  hand  from  you ;  but,  lo  ! 
I  offer  to  quench  both,  so  you  will  give 
My  sister  freedom ;  nay,  I  proffer  friendship 
And  honored  place, — whatever  you  may  choose, 
Less  than  the  crown, — to  buy  your  magic*  help 
For  my  dear  Gwynedd. 

PELLITUS. 

Still  you  squander  time, 
Seeking  to  purchase  what  is  like  the  time, 
Not  upon  sale  :  so  shut  the  chapman's  pack. 

BRIAN. 

Thus  may  you  be  to  Gwynedd's  valiant  king 
What  Merlin  was  to  Arthur,  and  your  name, 
A  glory  and  renown  above  all  names  ! 
Honored  with  a  brave  people's  love  and  reverence, 
Your  life  be  filled  with  fame  ;  and  after  death 
The  years  bear  on  your  glory,  fadeless  still, 
And  by  undying  legend  made  immortal. 

PELLITUS. 

You  offer  payment  with  a  generous  hand, 
Dipping  it  deeply  into  future  years, 


124  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  iv. 

And  scattering  images  of  glittering  shine 

Before  my  eyes.     These  are  not  yours,  rash  youth, 

To  offer.     What !  do  you  think  to  startle  me 

By  novelty?     Know,  I  have  pondered  well 

Fame's  promises,  and,  weighing  carefully 

The  future,  found  it  hath  not  anything — 

Nay  !  in  its  sum  of  all,  not  so  much  value 

To  buy  this  flitting  instant  of  the  present. 

I  do  not  choose  to  bargain  for  a  name. 

BRIAN. 
What  can  I  offer  for  my  sister's  ransom? 

PELLITUS. 

Nothing  to  me  ;  your  own  is  all  the  question 
That  brings  us  here. 

ENID. 

And  I — can  I  say  aught, 
Proffer  you  aught,  the  price  of  present  freedom  ? 

PELLITUS. 

Not  now  ;  I  give  you  here  your  brother's  life  ; 
Nor  dare  I  venture  more,  for  weighty  reasons 
Importing  much  to  me.     I,  whom  he  sought 
To  slay,  give  him  his  life  and  liberty. 


SCENE  ii.]    At  tlie  Court  of  King  Edwin.  125 

ENID. 

How  shall  I  know  my  brother  hath  good  speed 
After  our  parting? 

PELLITUS. 

Do  you  doubt  me,  lady? 

Here  are  his  keys ;  myself  would  loose  the  chains, 
But,  knowing  well  your  brother's  rash  intents, 
Fear  present  freedom  may  induce  to  folly 
His  headstrong  youth.     While  I  attend  you,  princess, 
My  slave  shall  be  his  servant  to  unlock 
These  fetters,  and  conduct  him  where  a  steed, 
Saddled  and  bitted,  waits  a  rider's  spur 
To  give  him  safety,  as  quick-growing  miles 
Leave  death  and  danger  conquered  by  his  feet. 
Is  this  well,  princess  ? 

BRIAN. 

Nay  ;  it  is  not  well — 
I  answer,  Sir  Magician,  for  the  lady. 
I  will  not  blindly  serve  dark  purposes, 
Although  they  lead  "to  present  liberty. 
I  came,  as  you  have  overheard,  to  take 
Your  life  for  harmful  spells  your  magic  wrought 
Against  my  Gwynedd  ;  I  have  failed  ;  my  life 
Is  fallen  in  your  power ;  take  it,  magician. 
I  will  have  naught  of  you — naught  but  the  thing 


126  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  iv. 

I  came  for;  failing  that,  will  not  receive 
Thus  doubtfully  from  hands  of  an  enemy 
My  life.  The  stake  is  lost ;  take  it,  magician. 

PELLITUS. 

As  winning  gamester,  throwing  for  a  chance 
Of  larger  ventures,  lets  his  smaller  stake 
Remain  unclaimed,  so  value  I  the  fortune 
That  makes  me  winner  of  your  life,  a  thing 
As  valueless,  'twould  seem,  to  you,  as  me. 

ENID. 
Brother,  from  me — take  life  a  gift  from  me  ! 

BRIAN. 

So  it  would  come  from  him  by  second  hand. 

»  ' 

I  marvel,  sister,  that  you  give  him  heed, 
And  sully  honest  thought  with  so  ill  converse. 
I  should  despise  myself,  a  tainted  thing, 
Soiled  by  his  giving,  if  I  could  content  me 
To  owe  him  life. 

PELLITUS. 

The  chances  of  the  world 
Make  life  depend  so  often  on  those  things 
We  would  not  choose  to  rest  our  lives  upon 
If  we  had  choice,  or  power  to  govern  chance, 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  127 

That,  if  we  so  could  gather  soil  from  others, 

All  were,  as  Ethiops,  black  ;  and  nature,  foul. 

Is  the  white  lily's  purity  defiled, 

Or  the  rose-blossom's  perfume  made  less  fragrant, 

Because  decay  lies  fetid  at  their  roots? 

This  is  vain  Folly's  lightest,  idlest  humor, 

Which  giddy  youth  mistakes  for  nobleness. 

I  know  not  why  I  cross  your  mad  caprice 

To  say  that  folly's  folly — 'tis  alike 

To  me  if  folly  bid  you  live,  or  die. 

ENID. 

I  ask  thee,  brother  :  Brian,  live  for  me  ; 
Nor,  for  a  fancied  harm,  abandon  life 
To  meet  harm's  dread  reality — so.  flying 
Disaster's  painted  counterfeit,  thou  fallest, 
Scared  by  a  threat,  into  the  yawning  gulf 
Of  true  calamity.     We  may  repent 
Of  a  wrong  choosing,  and  repair  the  fault, 
If  we  have  life ;  but  he,  who  chooseth  death, 
Cuts  off  repentance  and  a  second  choice. 
Thou  smilest,  as  to  say,   "  The  death  I  choose 
Is  easy  for  me"  ;  if  it  be  indeed, 
Then  art  thou  choosing  what  is  easiest, 
Leaving  to  me  the  hard  and  painful  task 
Of  battling  with  the  world.     If  I  could  look, 


128  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  iv. 

As  thou  canst,  with  untroubled  eye  on  death, 
Untrembling  see  the  doomful  gate  swing  back, 
Closing  behind  me  with  its  dread  "  Forever," 
Then  would  we  die  together  ;  but  I  cannot. 
Take  not  away  my  only  hope  of  help, 
Throwing  thy  life  disdainfully  away — 
Why  !  this  is  cowardice  ;  it  is  true  courage 
That  bids  a  great  heart  bravely  dare  to  live. 

BRIAN. 

Ah  !  sister,  wouldst  thou  see  a  Cymrian  prince 
Loosed  from  his  chain  to  fly  like  frightened  hound 
With  racket  at  his  heels?     Brave  help  to  thee 
A  fugitive  could  give.     No  ;  I  will  die 
Here  like  chained  bear  pining  for  native  wilds, 
Or  baited  to  his  death  by  snarling  dogs. 
Sister,  no  more ;  thou  shall  not  buy  my  life. 

ENID,  throwing  her  arms  round  BRIAN. 
Brother,  my  tongue  hath  tempted  thee  with  lies : 
I  dare  to  die ;  I  will  not  part  from  thee ; 
I  thought  to  buy  a  richer  life  with  mine, 
And  willingly — yea,  willingly  !     O  Brian, 
Keep  me  beside  thee  ;  I  will  gladly  die  ! 

PELLITUS. 
Excuse  me,  lady,  but  this  may  not  be ; 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  129 

I  brought  you  here  to  save  a  brother's  life, 
And  not  to  die.     If  he  will  not  have  life, 
The  fault  lies  not  with  me,  but  with  himself. 
I  cannot  give  a  longer  waiting :  princess, 
Speak  your  farewells,  and  speedily,  I  pray. 

ENID. 

I  will  not  go  with  you. 

PELLITUS. 

Are  you  both  mad, 

That  thus  you  heap  one  folly  on  another, 
Mock  me  with  idle  caprice,  changing  moods 
Absurd  as  fancies  of  a  petted  infant  ? — 
By  Juno  !  lady,  do  not  tempt  me  further, 
Lest  I  forget  respect  for  Cymrian  princess 
In  the  behavior  of  a  heedless  girl — 
You  will  not  stir  ?     Princess,  I  bid  you  come. 

BRIAN  to  ENID. 

Enid,  what  wilt  thou  do? 

ENID. 
I  will  not  go. 

PELLITUS. 

By  wing-foot  Mercury,  a  pair  of  fools, 
9 


130  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  iv. 

That  cannot  see  they  have  no  power  to  say 
"  I  will"  or  "  I  will  not"  !     In  place  of  Parcse, 
I  hold  your  threads,  to  twist  them,  or  to  break, 
As  I  may  choose. 

BRIAN. 

A  frowning,  angry  Fate — 
Enid,  they  will  not  load  thy  arms  with  chains, 
But  there  are  shackles,  as  I  fear,  whose  chafe 
Will  cut  as  deep.     I  cannot  help  thee — go  ; 
And  good,  kind  spirits  guard  thee ;  go. 

ENID. 

No !  no ! 
PELLITUS. 
Ho!  Rhyn! 

Enter  RHYN. 

Bring  me  the  lady  hither,  Rhyn — 
Stay  not  a  moment ;  bring  her  here,  I  say. 

RHYN  endeavors  to  bring  away  ENID,  who  clings 
to  BRIAN.     PELLITUS  drags  her  away  by  force. 
So  wilt  thou  tempt  me,  princess?  yea,  thy  touch 
Sends  the  quick  blood  like  fire  along  my  veins ! 

ENID. 
Loosen  your  hands ;  I'll  go  back  to  the  queen. 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  1 3 1 

PELLITUS. 

Bend  not  upon  me  such  an  angry  eye ; 
Is  this  the  promised  favor?     By  the  zone 
Of  Venus,  I  will  have  a  kiss  ! 

ENID. 

Help!  help! 

ENID  draws  a  dagger,  but,  before  she  can  use  it, 
PELLITUS  takes  it  from  her,  and  throws  it 
aside;  RHYN//V&  it  up. 

BRIAN. 
O  mighty  Ogma,  burst  these  cruel  chains ! 

PELLITUS. 

Ho  !  lady,  wilt  thou  scratch  ?     I  swear  by  Venus, 
It  were  a  fault  to  leave  thy  lips  unkissed  ! — 
A  fault  to  Venus  and  her  cooing  doves — 
A  fault  to  beauty  and  its  dimpled  loves — 

ENID. 

Help  !  Brian,  help  ! 

RHYN  stabs  PELLITUS  with  ENID'S  dagger;  the 
magician  releases  ENID,  and,  drawing  a  sword, 
turns  towards  RHYN,  but  falls. 


132  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.      [ACT  iv. 

PELLITUS. 

The  slave — oh,  folly  !  folly  ! — 
Tq  hold  the  chances  fairly  in  my  hand, 
And  lose  them  thus  ! 

RHYN. 
Where  are  his  demons  now? 

PELLITUS. 

The  slave,  a  Cymrian  ! — stupid,  fatal  folly' 

To  overlook  this  chance  !  but  chance  is  fate, 

And  fate  is  sure  to  meet  us  face  to  face 

At  last — is  this  the  last  ?  how  dark  it  grows  ! 

Why  have  you  quenched  the  torch  ? — blood — so  much 

blood ! 

Can  this  be  death?  and  life  so  quickly  creep 
Out  at  a  little  gap  ?     The  dungeon  sinks — 
O  Death,  thy  mystery  ! — mystery  ! — no  more — 

PELLITUS  dies  ;  RHYN  takes  his  keys,  and  unlocks 
BRIAN'S  chains, 

BRIAN. 
Brave  Rhyn,  a  royal  blow  ! 

The  chains  drop  from  him. 

Faint,  faint,  my  sister? 
Nay  !  let  me  chafe  thy  hands. 


SCENE  ii.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  133 

Enter  KING  PENDA  muffled  in  a  cloak;  BRIAN 
seizes  the  sword  of  PELLITUS. 

Who  art  thou  ?  speak  ! 

PENDA,  throwing  back  his  cloak. 
A  friend,  Prince  Brian. 

BRIAN. 

Penda,  King  of  Mercia  ! 

PENDA. 

The  Princess  Enid  ! — this  is  strange  indeed  ; — 
And  a  dead  body,  dabbled  in  its  blood  ! 
Takes  the  hands  of  ENID. 

Dear  princess,  thou  art  deathly  pale,  and  shake 
As  if  with  ague. 

ENID. 

'Tis  with  fear,  my  lord, 
And  foolish  fancies. 

BRIAN. 

Marvel  not ;  this  riddle 
Is  quickly  shown ;  but  first,  what  brings  you  here  ? 

PENDA. 
King  Edwin's  guest,  I  learned  of  your  mischance, 


134  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin,       [ACT  iv. 

And,  under  cover  of  this  cloak  and  night, 
Came  secretly. 

ENID. 

Pray  take  me  hence  !  I  tremble, 
And  shudder  yet  with  fear ;  while  Fancy  whispers  : 
"The  dead  magician  may  return  to  life, 
With  bloody  hand  beckon  a  frightful  demon 
Out  of  the  shadows  that  the  torchlight  flings 
Against  these  walls" — see  !  see  !  he  moves  ! — 
Take  me  away,  I  pray  ! 

PENDA. 

Pale  trembler,  come. 

BRIAN. 

He  only  moves,  my  sister,  in  thy  fears  ; 
This  Pellitus  is  harmless  now ;  his  demons 
Forsook  him  at  the  last — Ay,  we  will  go ; 
And  I  will  tell  thee,  more  at  leisure,  Penda, 
The  night's  strange  chances. 

To  RHYN. 

Come,  my  friend  ;   to  thee 
We  owe  much  more  than  thanks.  Exeunt. 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  135 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I.— THE  GREAT  HALL  OF  THE 
PALACE. 

The  KING  and  QUEEN  in  chairs  of  state ;  beside  the 
KING,  EARL  BLECCA,  Coin,  lords,  and  GOLDDIN  ; 
beside  the  queen,  the  Princess  ENID,  ladies,  PAULINUS, 
and  priests.  In  front  KING  PENDA,  BRIAN  disguised 
as  a  Mercian  noble,  Mercian  lords,  priests  of  Odin, 
etc.  At  sides  and  back,  guards  and  attendants.  On 
one  side  an  armed  figure  representing  Odin;  on  the 
other,  a  great  crucifix  held  by  a  priest. 

KING. 

King  Penda,  we  have  shown  thee  more  at  length 
Our  purpose  in  this  council ;  and  once  more 
We  ask  thy  voice  and  that  of  Mercia's  lords 
Upon  the  question  ;  freely  give  full  speech ; 
Let  every  Mercian  help  us  with  wise  words 
Fairly  to  weigh  our  purposed  policy. 

PENDA. 
O  king,  we  better  know  the  ways  of  war 


1 36  At  the  Court  of  King  Ed-wn.        [ACT  v. 

Than  peace,  the  use  of  arms  than  sounding  words ; 

Myself  and  fellow-soldiers  are  more  skilled 

To  swing  the  axe  than  wield  an  argument ; 

For  we  have  oftener  heard  swift  arrows  sing, 

And  javelins  clash  upon  our  ringing  shields, 

Than  these  word -battles  :  nathless  will  we  hear 

The  wise  opinions  of  your  counsellors, 

And  give  our  own  rude  thoughts  in  ruder  words  ', 

But,  ere  these  larger  purposes  appear, 

I  ask  again,  great  king,  in  modest  guise, 

My  suit,  the  ransom  of  the  Cymrian  princess. 

KING. 

We  would  desire,  and  grant  thee,  larger  asking 
With  a  glad  heart,  free  hand  ;  nor  scant  thy  worth 
In  word  or  deed.     Unasked,  we  proffered  thee 
Greater  alliance  than  a  Cymrian  princess ; 
But  so  you  name  a  thing  beyond  our  reach 
Unless  we  will  revoke  our  kingly  word, 
And  take  again  what  we  have  freely  given, 
Which  must  not  be ;  for  kingly  majesty 
Shows  kingliest  when  honor  lights  its  acts, 
And  justice  shines,  the  jewel  of  its  crown. 

PENDA. 
I  turn  from  such  stern  judgment  to  the  queen, 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin,  137 

And  place  my  cause  before  her  gentler  court ; 
If  rough  the  advocate,  not  so  the  suit : 
Must  passionate  pleading  yield  to  cold  decrees  ? 
Fair  queen,  reverse  the  judgment  of  the  king. 

•^ 

KING. 

We  are  content  the  queen  shall  give  an  answer ; 
Our  sentence  is  not  wrought  of  arrogant  will, 
But  through  its  woven  web  shine  golden  threads 
Of  bright  amenities. 

PENDA. 

Must  Mercia  supplicate  in  vain,  fair  queen, 
Your  tenderness?     Raise  up  a  humble  suitor, 
And  make  his  hopes  as  bright  as  your  fair  face. 

QUEEN. 

We  thank  King  Penda  for  his  offered  tribute, 
But  florid  compliment  wins  not  his  cause; 
For  in  my  heart,  as  in  the  wise  opinion 
Of  my  lord's  court,  religion  sits  enthroned 
In  highest  seat.     Love  lasteth  for  a  day, 
The  soul  forever.     Kneel  before  the  cross, 
And  you  shall  win  yourself  an  advocate 
More  loudly  voiced  than  are  a  hundred  loves; 
But  ask  me  not  to  give  our  captive  princess 
Into  a  pagan's  keeping. 


138  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  v. 

PENDA. 

Queen  of  Deira, 

I  cannot  sell  the  ancient  faith  of  kings 
To  buy  my  princess.     Once  you  gave  the  keeping 
Of  a  sweet  princess  to  a  pagan's  hands ; 
'And,  lo  !  the  gift  will  prove  a  means  to  bring 
The  pagan  to  the  cross. 

QUEEN. 

So  might  it  prove 

With  you  if  wedded  to  a  Christian  wife; 
But  not  when  both  are  pagan.     Giving  Enid 
A  Christian  husband,  gives  therewith  the  hope 
Of  one  day  coming  to  her  husband's  faith. 

PENDA. 
And  my  appeal  hath  failed  ? 

KING. 

Take  wiser  thought, 
And  ask  a  larger  thing. 

PENDA. 

What  thing  is  nearest 

The  heart  seems  greatest,  as  an  outstretched  hand 
May  hide  a  mountain  :  I  will  have  no  other ; 
Refuse  me  this,  and  you  refuse  me  all. 


SCENE  i.]     At  tfic  Court  of  King  Edwin.  139 

MERCIAN  LORD. 

Great  king,  our  Mercia  puts  her  claim  for  service, 
Done  in  your  wars,  into  King  Penda's  hands; 
Denying  him,  your  nay  will  coldly  strike 
The  hearts  that  warmly  beat  with  loyal  zeal. 

KING. 

Our  nay  is  given.     A  royal  pledge  must  stand 
Against  all  murmurs.     Let  Mercia  ask  a  thing 
Honor  may  nobly  give,  and  our  great  giving 
Will  show  how  rich  we  prize  its  loyal  hearts. 

Rising. 

My  lords,  the  present  purpose  of  this  council 
Hath  been  set  forth,  and  many  well-weighed  reasons 
Beforetime  given.     For  these  recited  reasons, — 
Wherein  the  virtuous  precepts  of  our  queen, 
And  fair  example,  with  the  patient  teaching 
Of  her  most  reverend  bishop,  have  great  place, — 
And  for  a  certain  sign,  directly  shown 
In  a  strange  vision,  from  my  heart  I  cast 
The  old  religion  of  the  ^Esir  gods. 
But  while  I  feel  great  hands  of  Supreme  Power 
Pushing  Bor's  children  from  their  old-time  thrones 
Within  my  heart,  yet  do  I  challenge  Awe 
And  this  new  Potency  with  anxious  question. 
We  hold  in  royal  hands  a  people's  weal ; 


140  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  v. 

And  may  not  change,  as  doth  a  fickle  mind 

With  a  new  thought,  unless  such  change  will  bring 

Our  people  good.     So  have  I  studied  well — 

As  careful  pilot  looks  on  shore  and  sea, 

On  flying  clouds  that  tell  how  move  the  winds, 

On  the  strained  mast  that  bends  with  each  wild  blast — 

The  fortunes  of  my  land.     The  lips  of  Odin 

Breathe  war  in  every  legend  of  the  past,  . 

And  tell  the  future  glory  of  Valhalla 

Filled  with  resounding  arms.     Must  war  prevail 

Perpetual?  and  these  valleys  and  green  hills 

Be  but  the  camps  of  armies?     No;  my  thought 

Looks  forward  with  the  forecast  of  the  seer, 

And  welcomes  Peace,  a  goddess  of  bright  hopes, 

In  place  of  blood-stained  Freya — valleys,  hills, 

Melodious  with  the"  lowing  of  fat  kine, 

Fair  towns,  rich  cities,  built  by  port  and  stream, 

And,  yellow  in  gay  meadows,  waving  corn. 

This  cannot  Odin  bring ;  the  clash  of  arms 

Makes  barren  fields,  and  towns  and  hamlets  burn 

Upon  the  track  of  War.     You  know  me  well : 

I  am  no  coward,  trembling  at  the  flash 

Of  gleaming  steel,  that  thus  I  find  a  thing 

Better  than  war.     From  the  rough  northern  hills 

Beyond  the  Tweed,  where  roam  wild,  native  tribes, 

Down  to  the  Cornwall  coast,  my  sword  hath  won 


SCENE  I.]     At  tJie  Court  of  King  Edwin.  141 

A  sovereignty ;  I  now  would  sheathe  its  edge, 
And  cherish,  not  destroy.     When  long  ago, 
A  homeless  boy,  I  dwelt  at  Cadvan's  court, 
And  later,  when  the  murderous  Ethelfrith 
Hunted  me  forth  as  dogs  drive  out  a  wolf 
From  shelter  of  his  den,  my  mind  would  dream 
Of  a  glad  time,  far  off  in  future  years, 
When,  lord  of  this  wide  land,  I  might  lay  down 
My  victor  sword,  and  bid  sweet  Peace  arise 
To  spread  enchantments  as  the  sun  pours  light 
Brightly  upon  broad  realms.     That  hour  is  come ; 
Cast  down  the  warring  Odin,  and  seek  Peace 
With  me  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  cross. 

QUEEN. 

Sweeter  than  sunshine  doth  that  shadow  fall, 
And  the  glad  earth,  marked  by  the  holy  sign, 
Smiles  with  delight.;  the  little  grass-blades  smile, 
And  lovely  flowerets  wear  more  delicate  tints, 
Kissed  by  the  shadow  of  the  crucifix. 

To  PAULINUS. 

Stand  forth,  my  holy  father,  and  declare 
Unto  these  lords  the  mission  of  our  Christ. 

PAULINUS. 
O  king  and  lords,  the  throne  of  the  Most  High 


142  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  v. 

Is  set  above  the  great  blue  vault  that  domes 

The  wide-spread  earth;  where  with  a  shining  host 

Of  angels,  seraphs,  cherubim,  dwells  He, 

The  Lord  of  all,  Creator  of  the  world. 

Man  is  His  creature,  with  a  bodily  form 

Shaped  by  His  hand,  a  consciousness  of  soul 

Fashioned  in  faint  resemblance  of  His  own — 

Man  is  His  creature,  by  His  boundless  love 

Encircled  as  a  green  and  lovely  island 

Is  held  in  fond  embrace  of  the  caressing  sea. 

But  man  knew  not  this  love  ;  his  feeble  sight 

Turned  upward,  lost  in  azure  depths  of  space, 

Reached  not  the  throne  of  Heaven ;  but  in  the  gleam 

Of  sunshine,  light  of  stars,  the  glimmering  sheen 

Of  ocean,  breath  of  meadows  rich  with  perfume, 

Murmur  of  insects,  smiles  of  hill-sides 

Glad  with  harvest,  merry  songs  of  birds, 

Tumult  of  tempests,  impress  of  haunting  dreams, 

Chances  of  war,  disease,  shipwreck,  and  death, 

He  felt  the  power  that  mocked  his  reach  of  sight. 

Then  artist  Fancy  fashioned  curious  myths, 

The  progeny  of  legendary  wonders 

Descended  from  the  past ;  and  in  their  hands 

Placed  the  great  sceptre  of  the  God  of  Heaven. 

But  He,  above,  looked  down  with  pitying  eye 

On  man's  rude  fancies  and  absurd  beliefs; 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edivin.  143 

As  He  had  given  His  creature  being,  now 

He  gave  a  richer  gift,  the  light  of  Truth. 

Descending  from  His  throne,  in  human  shape 

He  came  to  be  man's  teacher,  and  His  theme — 

Whispered  befo retime  by  the  voice  of  nature, 

But  to  d^af  ears — was  His  unbounded  love. 

To  seal  that  love,  and  bridge  the  abysm  of  space 

Between  His  throne  and  earth  with  human  sympathy, 

He  took  upon  Him  man's  infirmities, 

And  gave  His  body  in  sharp  agony 

To  perish  on  the  cross.     Behold  the  sign  ! 

Points  to  the  crucifix. 
.What  better  token  of  a  love  divine? 
What  purer  teaching  than  a  scheme  of  love? 
See  !  from  His  cross,  this  God  looks  down  on  you; 
O  turn  from  worship  of  your  cruel  Odin 
To  the  sweet  face  of  Christ,  the  crucified  ! 

QUEEN,  pointing  to  Odin: 's  statue. 
See  how  dark  Odin  frowns  with  angry  brow, 

Turns  to  the  crucifix. 
While  love  beams  forth  from  Christ's  angelic  face ! 

PENDA. 

If  pitiful  Love  ruled  in  the  hearts  of  men, 
Your  god  should  sit  o'er  all ;  but  tell  me,  queen, 


144  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  v. 

When  we  have  cast  aside  our  warlike  arms 
Who  shall  protect  us  from  the  northern  tribes, 
Or  from  our  viking  cousins,  o'er  the  seas, 
Who  know  not  this  high  sovereignty  of  Love, 
But  put  great  faith  in  Odin,  god  of  battles? 

PAULINUS. 

When  foes  assail,  upon  the  breast  of  Peace 
Hanging  War's  panoply,  ye  may  go  forth 
And  conquer  in  the  name  of  blessed  Peace. 

PENDA. 

If  it  be  name  alone,  and  you  can  change 
Your  white  Christ  to  a  warrior,  let  us  try 
To  teach  our  Odin  how  to  be  a  saint, 
And  keep  our  ancient  faith. 

KING. 

No  saint  of  Odin 

Can  come  of  teaching.     Odin  is  only  war, 
A  breathing  of  the  spirit  of  savagery 
Born  of  the  stormy  North.     Gay  Lord  of  Lincoln, 
Tell  us:  the  life  of  man,  must  Odin  rule  it? 
Or  may  we  govern  our  brief  staying-here 
And  going-hence  by  this  new  creed  of  love? 


SCENE  I.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  145 

BLECCA. 

O  king,  this  life  of  man  is  a  strange  marvel. 
Amid  the  whirl  of  days  that  bear  us  on 
Through  ruined  years,  events  leap  up,  and  cry, 
"  Lo,  this  is  life  !"  but  while  we  listen  each 
Wild  cry  grows  faint,  and  dies.     We  seek  to  look 
Beyond  the  present,  peer  with  curious  eyes 
Among  vast  shadows ;  but,  beholding  naught, 
Ponder  on  pictures  of  an  endless  time 
Stretching — we   know   not  where.     From   such   huge 

shapes 

Turning  bewildered,  we  come  back  again 
To  our  to-day,  nor  less  bewildered,  ask, 
"  What  is  this  life?" — O  king,  it  is  a  scene 
In  your  great  hall  at  the  mid-winter  feast — 
From  a  heaped  pile  of  burning  logs  the  flame 
Roars  in  the  chimney ;  cheered  by  genial  warmth 
Sit  king  and  queen,  your  thegns  and  ealdormen ; 
Here  there  is  light  and  heat,  but  out-of-doors 
The  fierce  storm  raves,  and  whirled  by  howling  winds 
The  snow  drives  wildly  to  the  snow-piled  earth. 
Lo  !  through  the  door — opened  by  careless  groom 
To  note  if  winds  abate — flies  in  a  bird, 
A  waif  of  nature,  homeless  in  the  storm. 
With  frightened  wing  it  circles  round  the  hall, 
But  quick  is  gone  again  into  the  night 


146  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  v. 

Through  the  rent  casement's  gap — gone  into  night, 

And  seen  no  more.     This  sparrow  is  man's  life. 

While  it  is  here  it  feels  not  freezing  winds 

Dash  storm  and  darkness  on  its  weary  breast ; 

The  blazing  fire  is  flashing  in  its  eyes, 

And  warmth  and  comfort  rather  mock  its  flight 

Than  mark  its  stay,  while  fear  and  destiny 

Hurry  it  forth  into  the  stormy  night 

Where  it  is  lost.     We  saw  it  here,  a  thing 

Little  to  us ;  but,  to  its  own  scared  heart, 

A  mystery  of  greatness.     Whence  it  came, 

Or  whither  gone,  we  scarcely  may  conjecture ; 

Out  of  the  black,  tempestuous  night  it  came, 

And  back  returned  ;  a  moment  fluttering  here, 

And  then  no  more.     Though  doubtless  ere  it  came 

It  had  a  history,  and  afterward 

A  fate  accomplished  in  the  howling  night, 

Yet  what  they  were,  we  know  not.     This  is  life ; 

And  we,  such  night-lost  birds. 

QUEEN. 
Poor  bird  !  poor  life  ! — so  it  is  pitiful. 

BLECCA. 

Tell  me,  O  priests,  if  you  have  heard  it  whispered 
By  rigid  lips  of  great  ones  in  some  hour 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  147 

When  they  have  broken  through  accustomed  silence 

To  prattle  with  you  as  companions  talk, 

Or  as  the  wise  give  lessons  to  green  youth  ; 

Or  if  'tis  written  in  your  sacred  runes; 

Or  lives,  the  moral  of  some  ancient  legend  ; 

Or  muttered  down  from  priestly  lip  to  lip : 

Where  hath  my  soul  been  wandering  ere  this  life? 

Or  whither  flies  it  when  death's  winter  night 

Shall  hide  it  from  your  eyes? — Odin  tells  not; 

Nor,  as  I  fear,  your  Christ  can  answer  this, 

Save  in  vague  pictures,  unrealities, 

That  dimly  show  an  unsubstantial  seeming. 

If  all  beyond  this  life  be  but  a  blank, 

If  forward,  backward,  both  ways  end  in  night, 

To  me  be  given  the  laugher's  merry  creed, 

And  let  me  flutter  my  gay  wings  in  light, 

And  shun  the  tempest,  and  avoid  the  night. 

If  I  must  choose  or  War,  or  gentle  Peace, 

A  frown,  or  smile,  I  rather  choose  the  smile ; 

Count  me  a  convert  to  the  god  of  Peace. 

QUEEN. 

Ah  !  Lord  of  Lincoln,  in  my  dreams  to-night 
I  shall  behold  gigantic  shadows  chase 
Thy  night-lost  bird,  flattering  on  failing  wings, 
Into  a  black  and  shunless  destiny. 


148  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  v. 

PAULINUS,  pointing  to  the  crucifix. 
Here  is  a  refuge  in  the  heart  of  Love 
From  storm,  and  night,  and  death. 

KING. 

Wise  Lord  of  Lincoln, 
Beneath  thy  painted  mask  of  poetry 
And  skilful  picturing  of  words  appears 
Question  too  great  for  our  philosophy : 
The  ceaseless  wash  of  nature's  waves,  the  years, 
Laves  with  uprising  crests  our  solvent  lives, 
With  sinking  ebb  bears  off  a  part  of  us 
Into  the  sea  of  time.     Afar  that  sea 
Looks  smooth  as  summer  lake,  more  near  in  storm 
It  breaks  on  man,  a  billowy  dash  of  spray 
And  so  wild  tumult  of  mad  agonies, 
That  death  is  rest  and  haven  from  its  rage ; 
But  storm  or  rest,  a  constant  menstruum 
Of  human  life — that  life,  for  briefness,  like 
The  fleeting  moments  a  spent  swimmer  keeps 
His  head  above  the  vast  and  pitiless  flood  : 
Then  shall  we  see,  in  death,  a  hand  of  Love 
Stretched  upward  mid  the  boiling  waves  to  save  ? 
Or  some  huge  kraken  that  ail-hungrily 
Sucks  us  adown  to  its  insatiate  maw  ? 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  149 

PENDA. 

A  nobler  picture,  if  so  brief  be  life, 
A  javelin's  flight :  it  sings  along  the  air 
From  Odin's  hand,  and,  crashing  through  shield-rim, 
Dies  there,  blood-drunken ;  to  be  caught  anon 
Out  of  pierced  shield,  and  wing  again  its  flight. 
But,  to  my  mind,  this  life  hath  space  enough 
For  largest  honors :  if  my  hap  to  fill  it 
With  glory  such  as  Crida  greatly  won, 
Then  glory  shall  assume  enduring  shape 
Like  lordly  palace  builded  to  the  skies, 
Speaking  from  lips  of  sculptured  blazonings 
Valor's  great  acts;  its  shining  pinnacles 
Neighboring  the  stars ;  its  fame  enduring  ever 
While  love  of  glory  stirs  in  hearts  of  men. 
Nay,  it  is  idle  prattle  of  life's  shortness  ; 
Life  is  too  long  if  filled  with  idleness; 
Quite  long  enough  for  Valor's  high  renown 
And  thoughts  and  acts  that  live  renewed  in  breath 
Of  minstrelsy,  immortal  in  a  song. 
Lo  !  in  the  hall,  the  hungry  feast  is  over, 
And  kitchen-knaves  bear  oft"  the  empty  platters, 
While  warriors  loosen  belts,  and  cry  aloud, 
To  fill  the  horn,  and  send  it  gaily  round. 
Then  while  bright  drops  are  sparkling  in  each  beard 
The  king  calls  up  his  minstrel,  bidding  him 


150  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  v. 

Pour  forth  the  soul  of  glory  on  the  flood  of  song. 

Now  while  he  sweeps  his  harp,  all  bend  intent 

To  catch  sweet  notes  ;  but  when  in  swelling  tones 

He  sings  of  glory,  lo  !  the  warriors  rise, 

Push  back  huge  benches ;  from  bright  baldrics  pull 

Their  great  swords  out,  and  while  the  torchlight  flickers 

On  flashing  blades,  shout  till  the  oaken  roof 

Sends  back,  each  rib  reverberate  with  din, 

A  great  response  to  glory.     Life  is  short  ? 

Nay,  it  is  great  and  deathless  when  it  lives 

On  minstrel  lips,  thus  summoned  back  again 

From  hollow  vase,  sea-cave,  rich,  marble  tomb, 

Or  the  rough  cairn  that  marks  a  hero's  grave — 

Ay,  deathless  through  all  fortunes  save  the  chance 

Of  glory's  death  in  man's  degenerate  heart. 

What  is  the  tame  existence  of  dull  years 

Though  stretched  by  magic  through  unending  time, 

Crawling  from  bed  to  food,  from  food  to  bed, 

Compared  to  life  eternal  in  the  breath 

Of  song? 

QUEEN. 

So  would  you  drown  each  gentler  note, 
That  Peace  may  sing  of  sweet  affection's  joys, 
In  drums  of  battle.     Pray,  most  warlike  king, 
Why  do  you  seek  a  queen  ?  a  carven  thing 
Cut  of  white  ivory,  and  crowned  with  gold, 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  151 

Would  fill  your  chair  of  state.     O,  set  not  there 
A  woman  of  warm  heart,  to  feel  that  heart 
Crushed  in  such  iron  keeping,  if  you  know 
No  dearer  yearning  than  a  victor's  hope, 
No  fonder  thrill  than  comes  of  glory's  song  I 

PENDA. 

My  picture  hangs  with  others  on  ttie  wall ; 
What  time  hath  frightened  bird,  or  a  spent  swimmer, 
To  dream  of  love  ?     Turn  your  reproachful  eyes, 
Fair  queen,  on  him  of  Lincoln  and  the  king  ; 
Perhaps  my  heart  hath  pulse  of  love  as  great 
As  either.     These  are  only  pictures,  lady, 
And  mine  no  more  reality  than  theirs. 

Coin. 

I  see  not  why  we  trifle  thus  with  pictures 
When  great  realities  come  face  to  face 
With  idle  fancies,  pushing  these  shadows  forth 
Out  of  our  hearts.     Too  long  have  worshipped  pictures 
Held  our  obedience.     Look,  how  Odin  stands, 
Picture  of  might !     If  he  were  might  indeed, — 
Not  hollow  seeming,  empty,  shining  armor 
Set  up  in  fashion  of  an  armored  man, — 
Would  he  not  leap  from  marble  pedestal 
To  smite  our  sacrilege  ?     I  long  have  served 


152  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  v. 

This  idle  god;  have  set  before  his  face 

The  fairest  things  ;  upon  his  altars  burned 

Gifts  of  great  price  ;  the  blood  of  slaughtered  captives 

Poured  at  his  feet ;  but  yet  he  stood  as  now, 

Only  a  picture ;  and  the  power,  I  dreamed 

Shut  up  in  his  mailed  bosom,  never  once 

Gave  me  a  sign  ;  yet  still  I  served,  and  worshipped, 

Until  the  light  of  this  new  faith  shone  down, 

And  day  dawned  in  my  soul.     Then  I  beheld, 

In  place  of  deity,  an  empty  figure, 

A  shell  of  form  and  nothingness  within, — 

Nor  like  a  shrivelled  acorn  with  a  germ 

Of  future  life, — while  prayerful  at  its  feet 

Knelt  many  nations  offering  sacrifice, 

Burning  rich  gifts,  and  shedding  human  blood. 

This  sight,  so  strange,  awakened  my  contempt ; 

I  laughed  at  it,  and,  filled  with  scornful  ire, 

Snatched  the  great  lance-shaft  from  his  nerveless  hand, 

And  beat  his  helmet  till  the  roof-tree  rung 

With  noisy  clatter,  and  the  dinted  brass 

Bent  with  my  blows.     O  lords,  is  this  a  thing 

To  worship,  this  dull  god  that  may  be  beaten 

Like  any  drunken  slave  ? 

PENDA. 
Blaspheming  dog  ! 


SCENE  i.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  153 

Doth  the  round  moon  heed  every  snarling  cur 
That  yelps  at  his  great  disk  ? 

A  PRIEST  OF  ODIN. 

Hear  me,  O  king  ! 

Nor  deem  great  Odin's  sleep,  the  sleep  of  death  : 
Worn  with  long  vigils,  at  his  mighty  foot 
I  slumbered  ;  waked  to  hear  an  awful  voice, 
Deep  as  the  thunder, — while  blue  lightning  played 
About  his  helmet, — bid  me  bring  his  shield, 
The  sculptured  stone  a  hundred  men  in  vain 
Might  strive  to  move ;  I  marvelled,  but  obeyed  ; 
And  when  I  touched  the  ponderous  block,  it  stirred 
As  light  as  gossamer,  that  there  I  hung  it 
On  the  left  arm  of  Odin  ;  then  he  cried, 
"  Sleep  on,"  and  at  his  word  I  fell  asleep; 
But  when  I  waked,  looked  upward  tremblingly 
Where  on  the  arm  of  Odin  still  there  hung 
The  carven  stone — Then  I  cried  out ;  at  which 
It  fell  with  frightful  sound  as  if  the  wind 
Split  into  tatters  an  enormous  sail ; 
And  I  beheld  the  marvellous  shield  roll  back 
To  where  I  took  it  up ;  and  many  heard 
The  great  stone  fall,  came  hastily,  and  saw 
The  form  of  Odin  shake,  blue  tongues  of  fire 


154  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  v. 

Still  flaming  round  his  helmet,  while  I  lay 
In  terror  at  his  feet. 

COIFI. 

A  stupid  dream  ! — 

This  god  is  moveless,  voiceless,  powerless. 
Behold,  I  wage  my  arm  against  his  might ! 
Give  me  an  axe,  and  I  will  smite  this  image ; 
If  it  be  not  the  senseless  thing  I  say, 
Let  it  smite  back ;  but  if  I  cast  it  down, 
And  stand  unharmed,  I  have  dethroned  the  god. 

KING. 
Give  him  an  axe. 

One  of  the  soldiers  of  the  king's  guard  gives  an 
axe  to  COIFI,  who  advances  to  the  statue  of 
Odin. 

COIFI. 

So  fall  the  J£sir  gods  ! 
COIFI  raises  the  axe  to  strike. 

PENDA. 
So  Odin  strikes  ! 

PENDA,  with  a  sword-thrust,  kills  COIFI,  who 
falls  at  the  feet  of  the  statue  of  Odin. 

KING. 
O  traitor  ! — Ho  !  my  guard  ! 


SCENE  i.]    At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  155 

The  lords  of  Deira  draw  their  swords,  and, 
with  the  king's  guard,  press  forward ;  the 
Mercian  lords  close  about  their  king  with 
drawn  swords;  while  KING  EDWIN  advances 
in  front  of  PEN  DA.  BRIAN  leads  ENID  among 
the  Mercians. 

PENDA. 

Here,  at  your  feet,  O  Christian  king,  I  cast 

My  vassalage.     Set  up  your  cross  of  Peace 

In  Deira;  Mercia  knows  no  gods  save  those 

Our  fathers  worshipped — "Traitor,"  do  you  say? 

Nay,  I  am  true  unto  my  ancient  faith, 

And  will  not  serve  a  traitor.     There  lies  one 

{Pointing  to  the  body  of  Coin.) 
Whose  purchased  hand  presumed  to  soil  his  god 
With  its  vile  touch — one,  you  would  make  a  king 
For  treachery ;  he  was  unkingly  ever, 
And  past  your  kingly  power  to  crown  him  now. 

KING. 
Thy  head  shall  lie  as  low  ! 

PENDA. 

Then  shall  these  halls 

Be  red  with  slaughter.     I  have  filled  your  court 
With  Mercians,  and  will  cut  a  bloody  track 


156  At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.        [ACT  v. 

Back  to  my  land.     I  ask  nor  peace,  nor  war ; 
But  stand  prepared  alike  for  either  chance. 

KING. 
A  monstrous  rebel ! 

QUEEN. 

Dear  my  lord,  I  pray  thee, 
Turn  not  thy  court  to  a  wild  battle-field; 
Because  I  am  no  warrior,  swords  affright  me ; 
Let  the  fierce  Penda  and  his  Mercians  go. 

KING. 
Let  it  be  so. 

To  KING  PENDA. 
We  give  thee  safely  forth 
To  Mercia;  there  full  well  defend  thyself; 
For,  by  yon  crucifix,  we  swear  to  plant 
The  cross  in  every  village  of  thy  land  ! 

PENDA. 

Red  will  the  soil  of  Mercia  grow,  O  king, 
About  your  plants.     I  take  this  offered  truce ; 
And  for  the  Princess  Enid,  who  will  go 
With  me  to  Mercia,  will  return  the  price 
Of  a  king's  ransom. 

KING. 
Nay,  we  give  her  thee, 


SCENE  I.]     At  the  Court  of  King  Edwin.  157 

All  ransomless,  in  payment  of  past  service ; 

We  would  not  owe  an  enemy  so  much 

As  is  thy  due ;  and  thus  we  cancel  it. 

So,  having  paid  old  scores,  we  now  may  feel 

The  only  debt  we  owe  is  present  due 

Of  bold  rebellion.     Go;  the  path  is  clear 

That  leads  to  Mercia. 

PENDA. 

Mercia,  by  my  hand, 

Now  breaks  her  chains ;  no  recreant  to  the  gods 
Shall  claim  her  service.     For  this  courtesy, 
Your  gift  of  Gwynedd's  princess,  'tis  set  down 
As  a  new  debt  to  courtesy ;  all  debts  else 
Cancelled,  my  country  oweth  naught  but  this. 
Now,  King  of  Deira,  Penda,  King  of  Mercia, 
No  more  a  vassal,  giveth  his  farewells. 
He  gaily  bids  you  to  his  wedding  feast, 
You  and  your  court — a  welcome  unto  all ; 
Or  choosing  rather  war,  come  with  your  hosts, 

And  still  he  promises  a  kingly  welcome. 

Exeunt. 


THE    END. 


f 


